


The Wrong Way

by dog2god



Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Bad Communication, Confusion, Dream POV, Fluff, Getting Together, God Save Me, Happy Ending tho, I changed the rating, I honestly dont understand whats going on in the smp so dont expect it here, M/M, More tags may ~appear~ as I go on, Multichaptered, Poor George, Slow Burn, Sort Of, Weekly Updates, also i may add more chapters, dream is an IDIOT, hang on boys this is going to be a long one, i might do one from George's we'll see, loosely planned, no smut tho, no thanks, not this bih, suggestive content ig, the rating may change idk dont @ me, we're going all in, ~lightly planned~
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dog2god/pseuds/dog2god
Summary: The story in which they're both idiots and have a bunch of phone calls
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dnf - Relationship, Dream/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	1. A Late Night Chat

Creating. 

It was something that he always wanted to do, but the older he got, the less it was pushed upon him. Sure, no one was going to deny a toddler the joy of messily scribbling on a paper with a purple crayon until he had ripped into the paper. No one was going to say to a 5-year-olds face that their short story about how french toast and pancakes were mortal enemies was horrible. No one said anything outright discouraging as he aged, but it felt like the expectations shifted around him. The atmosphere suddenly went from accepting and exploratory to serious. All of the sudden, he had to take everything so seriously. Everything was suddenly about his future. School, work, there wasn’t any time to concern oneself with creating. 

Not that he was artistic. 

Quite the opposite in fact, he wasn’t sure if he could draw a box and it still be legible as a box. 

When his peers around him talked about creating, they always meant something artsy. Taking a pottery class to destress. Taking a music class for an easy A. But there lies the problem. There was always a _reason_ to take these classes, rather than to take them to create something. There was nothing real in that reasoning. 

Or it could be that those were the excuses people used, since it was seen as weird to enjoy those kinds of things. 

Again, he was shit at anything and everything artsy. 

In the professional world, sure there were people who created things. Made things. But most of them didn’t seem to be in it for the right reasons. It was for the money, or the fame, their creations started to lose meaning. Bands, who had been filled with such rigor in the beginning, started to become too worried that the label would drop them if they got too edgy. Artists, who pushed boundaries in the beginning of their careers, started to be up their own asses as time went on. Look at Picasso, look at Andy Warhol. 

Not that he knew enough about art to be critical. 

All this to say, he hated what creating had become. He hated what being creative meant for a career. What being creative meant for a job, it had lost meaning. Or was it always like this? Had people always been greedy, but they just knew how to cover it up better back then?

He once read something that art should move the affections. He took his own liberties with this quote and said that any creation should move through an emotion. That money and fame were just add ons, they weren’t something to go for in and of themselves. 

So what did this mean for his career? What did this mean for his future? 

The question should actually be what did it mean to him, and how does it apply in the present. 

He wanted to create. He wanted to be so successful at it so his creations would be taken seriously. So that no one could deny his ability. He wanted to make people laugh, make them be in awe, make them feel welcome. He needed to have a wide enough reach and respect to be able to do this. He’s not an artist, he’s an entertainer. He creates entertainment. He moves people through the emotions of being happy, excited, filled with suspense. He had done his research about how to succeed, how to play with the algorithm's favor, enough so that when he wanted to make a career out of Minecraft, he could. 

Isn’t that funny? This whole thing just to get to the reveal of him being a Minecraft Youtuber. 

God gave him the ability to MLG from an early age, so when life hands you lemons… 

There were other reasons why he went for this job as well. The whole “I want to create” thing, as well as seeing others do it. Pewdiepie brought Minecraft back from the dead in 2019, it was the perfect game, and he’s damn good at it. He had some ideas on what content he wanted to make, and most of his ideas turned out to be big hits. It was the perfect timing, for all his research he couldn’t imagine a better time. He also wanted to be someone who wasn’t pulled into the hands of money and fame. He set limits on doing sponsorships, he refused to spend money on himself. He gave it to his friends, family, and charities. He purely wanted to create something. He wanted to make something. 

He wasn’t alone. Through this whole thing, he’s had so many people at his side. Friends from a long time, to new ones that he met very recently. 

For all his preaching, one would think that he was some moral God, that he is some all knowing being. 

Dream scoffs at that idea, and grabs his phone that’s at the edge of the bed. He presses the middle button. 

3:45 pm

What a wonderful time of day to wake up. 

He stretches gingerly before swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing up way too quickly. His head swirls with a methodical ache next to his left temple. He immediately sits back down with a soft thud. It’s what he gets for staying up too late. He actually managed to fix his sleep schedule, yet last night he just wasn’t tired. He just kept popping into everyone’s streams until there was no one left to talk to. That happened at around 4 am. For the next few hours he scrolled lazily through Twitter until finally collapsing in his bed at around 7:45. He decides to just sit there for a while and let his body get used to being awake. He pulls his phone back out, even though looking at the screen doesn’t help the sharp ache assaulting his head. 

There’s a few texts from his friends. Lots of notifications from Twitter, but what’s new. He slumps over and puts a hand over his head. Maybe if he applies enough pressure the waves of pain will leave. He opens the text from Sapnap first. 

_“Hey, I wanted to throw some video ideas around with you, when are you free today?”_ -Sent 12:38 pm. 

Dream grunts, and replies swiftly that he’s free whenever. He probably should go get some ibuprofen, yet even that seems like too much work. He reasons with himself that he’ll walk to the bathroom after he’s replied to his friends. Bad texted him a picture of a cat he might adopt. Dream says he approves of the little calico kitten shown. Bad has been texting him pictures of cats for awhile now, but still hasn’t chosen one. Maybe this is the one. A notification pops up that Sapnap texted him, but Dream reasons that he should reply to George first, who sent him something 20 minutes ago. Dream quickly does the math to figure out what time it is for George, and he realizes it’s almost 9 pm for him. That’s something that he wishes he didn’t have to worry about, the fact that his closest friends live in two different time zones. Sapnap is only an hour off, but George is quite the ways away. It makes recording a pain most of the time, trying to find the best time of day where everyone is free. It also makes daydreaming about meeting George unrealistic. Dream also realizes that he missed Tommy’s stream today, not that he makes it a thing to always go to them or be in the SMP during it, but still. He quickly goes to his and Tommy’s conversation, and sure enough there’s some messages about how Tommy is streaming and that Dream is not man enough to face him in the SMP and that he’s a bitch. He chuckles lightly and replies that he had better things to do, like sleeping. He taps back to his and George’s conversation to see one new message. 

_“Can we talk soon?”_ -Sent 3:26 pm

Huh. Something twists in his stomach at that, as well as a heat in his chest. He tilts his head and reads it again, as if that will give this message more meaning. He pushes down his feelings, reasoning that they’re side effects from his headache, and replies with a “Sure, when?” He tries not to let his mind play over their conversations the night before. He rationally knows that this probably isn’t about their friendship, rather something else. Yet he can’t help it. He thinks of last night, he was in a couple of calls with George, which now that Dream thinks of it George was up pretty late. They talked and joked a lot, but nothing came to mind where George was offended by what he said. 

Dream stands up, vertigo still flirting with his senses, but manages to make it past his bedroom and to the bathroom. He unscrews the bottle of ibuprofen and takes three capsules, as well as downing a glass of water. He looks at his phone and brings up Sapnap’s conversation. 

_“Ok, how about later tonight? Just call.”_

They usually called about video ideas, since it was a lot to put into a text. 

_“Sure,”_ he replied. _“Is George going to be there?”_ He starts to brush his teeth, as well as assess what damages sleeping until almost 4 in the afternoon does to one's looks. There’s a few marks on his face where his pillow had been, but other than that he looked normal. He looks at the clothes he fell asleep in: an old baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it and boxers. Dream weighs the idea of not changing out of his clothes, since he won’t be going out today anyway. His phone dings and he glances down.

_“Don’t know.”_

With a toothbrush dangling from his mouth, Dream stares at the message. Why is this giving him such an off feeling? Usually they brainstorm and talk about video ideas all together. Dream could count on one hand the amount of times they’ve done this step in the process separately. Sure, they’ve filmed videos apart from each other, but they were always there during this part. Dream quickly sends off another text. 

_“Is he ok?”_ He’s not sure why he even asked. Sapnap probably wouldn't know more than Dream. Or perhaps something happened in between the time Dream went to bed and now, then Sapnap would fill him in. What time had he left George last night? Maybe around 1:45 AM, his time, is when George went to bed. He finishes brushing his teeth, and tries to manage his hair. Wow, he needs a haircut. He supposes he could just cut it himself and hope for the best, no one would know. But people do know Clay, he still has a life outside Dream. Maybe next week he could schedule something. He ruffles his hair slightly. Then again, it doesn’t look bad long, just not what he’s used to. There’s a slight curl to it, which doesn’t happen when it’s cut short. Dream sighs, and walks out of the bathroom, reaching behind him to switch off the lights. 

He makes his way downstairs to the kitchen. He places his phone on the counter, making sure to have the sound on for when Sapnap texts him back. He goes to the fridge to see what he should have to eat. After staring into the fridge for a minute, he spots the lonely carton of eggs. Eggs, why not? He takes two eggs at first, then reckons he should probably take three. Grabs a metal bowl, a fork, and some milk. Cracks each egg into the bowl, masterfully pours just the right amount of milk into it, and then starts to whisk it. Not that he doesn’t like other styles of eggs, but it’s a mixture of not knowing how to cook them correctly and also the nostalgia of scrambled eggs that forces him to scramble them. He grabs a pan from under the stove, and places it on the burner, then places a dab of butter onto the pan. While pouring the eggs onto the pan, he tries to listen for his phone over the sizzle. He tells himself not to check, he’s making breakfast, it’s been like a minute since he’s checked. He pads at the eggs with a plastic spatula until they’re the right texture: almost spongy. He quickly pours himself some apple juice, and plates the eggs before putting his plate onto the counter and digging in. He grabs for his phone, reasoning that it’s totally acceptable to look through his phone while eating. No new texts. Sapnap was responding so fast, now what’s the hold up? He sighs, and keeps eating. He scrolls through twitter, looking at his mentions. After awhile, he finishes his food, which doesn’t taste as good as it usually does. Sighing, he walks back to upstairs. 

The ibuprofen has kicked in enough that he probably could spend some time speedrunning. He walks into his recording room, which he is pretty proud of to say the least. He’s soundproofed it, not that he needed to since he bought his house, but his family comes by often enough that it was a good idea. He sits into his chair, places his phone onto the desk. He decides against recording, since he isn’t trying for a world record right now, just some practice. There is that thought in the back of his mind of _“what if it’s a good seed, what if I do beat it?”_ He ignores it. It won’t happen. He wasn’t sure if he could ever beat it anyway. He’s just practicing, and he’s too lazy and gorgy to start recording. He wouldn’t have any good commentary. He launches Minecraft, and starts a game. 

The first three seeds he ditches almost immediately. The next one he stays in for a minute until he can’t find a village. He glances down at his phone from time to time, just to see if anyone has texted back. The 5th seed is actually promising. He manages to get into the nether in under 5 minutes. After looking around the nether for another 5 minutes, he finds a fortress. He smiles to himself, leans back to crack his knuckles, and then goes into the fortress. He does some risky jumps to get to the spawner, and just as he’s about to do the last jump his phone dings. He jumps in real life, being a little too invested in the game. His hands leave the keyboard. His sprint runs out, and he falls into lava. 

“Fuck.” He mutters as a red screen takes over. 

He leans back in his chair and picks up his phone. Sapnap always knows just when to text him. He couldn’t text 20 minutes ago, but sure now. He rakes a hand through his hair, and he unlocks his phone and sees who texted him. 

It’s George. 

_“Can I call you now, actually?”_

His hands start sweating, and there’s a tight constraint wraps around his heart. _It’s fine,_ he reasons with himself. _This probably isn’t about you._ Dream just wished Sapnap texted back before this, just so he could know if something is up. Just so he could prepare himself for this. Dream texts back a “sure.” George calls his phone about 5 seconds later. Dream takes a calming breath, clears his throat, and then presses accept. 

“Hey”

“Hey, Dream.” George sounds… soft, for a lack of a better term. There’s no humor in his voice, he’s speaking quietly. There’s the sharp tones of his accent, but even those have dulled a bit. Dream isn’t used to hearing George’s voice this way, so soft. Dream tries to swallow whatever lump formed in his throat, and continues with the conversation.

“What’s up?” Dream subconsciously quiets his own voice, to match the tone that George has set. Why does this feel so serious? Dream rubs the edge of his chair with his free hand, then settles to grip the edge of his chair.

“I, uhm…” Dream can hear George swallow. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” George sighs before continuing. “Sorry if this is coming across kind of weird.” George gives a half hearted laugh, but Dream sees no humor in it. Dream is way too nervous, and for what? When Dream doesn’t respond, George continues. “I know that we joke around a lot of the time, and it doesn’t mean anything but-” George pauses mid sentence, which puts Dreams anxiety through the roof. And he thought he was good with suspense. Dream grips the edge of his chair harder, what does Dream even want him to say? Why is this so weird? They’re never nervous to talk to each other, why now? “But, uh, I was wondering if we could stop joking around?” Silence fills the room. He feels his heart drop, dread fills his body. He clears his throat again, desperately trying to get that lump out of it. 

“What do you mean by joking?” _Don’t come to any conclusions yet,_ he tells himself. What conclusion am I supposed to come to? 

“Like, flirting with each other. On streams and stuff.” George's voice gets smaller, like he’s afraid to say this, or he doesn’t want to. 

“Oh.” That… wasn’t what he thought this conversation was going to be about. Of course it had to be something about their friendship. 

“Yeah, it’s just-” George cuts himself off again. He sighs, and comes back. “I just think that it’s not good for the fans.” He says this part louder. Dreams grip on his seat goes lax. A heavy weight fills his chest. 

“Uh, Ok,” Dream’s voice is still quiet. “Sure, if that’s what you want.” Dream pauses, hoping that George would correct him. Nothing happens, so he continues. “I mean, I thought it was for the fans to begin with, but no I get it. I can see what you mean.” That’s a lie. Dream doesn’t understand this. Why does this bother him so much? Dream sighs, feeling so shitty for a reason he doesn’t know. Dream realizes that there has been a silence over the line for far too long. “George?” Dream prompts. 

“Yeah.” George has gone soft again, yet now there’s a stiffness to it. “Yeah. Ok well. That’s all I wanted to say.” George clears his throat. “So, um. Yeah. I got to go.” George’s voice grows in volume and in speed. Dream takes a moment before replying. 

“Ok. See you later then.” 

“Bye.” George ends the call. Dream sits there with his phone to his ear for a few moments before letting his arm drop. The heavy weight that started in his chest has traveled all over his body. He turns his head to stare at the death screen still showing on his monitor. 

Did he say something wrong last night? Dream thinks back to the conversations last night with George. They had joked, laughed, George seemed to be having fun. Did Dream flirt a little bit, yeah, but that was their _thing._ And George flirted back! Dream moved his phone over his chest. He supposed that didn’t matter, if George wasn’t comfortable with it then he wasn’t comfortable with it. Dream had to respect that, and he would, of course. But George never said that he didn’t like it, just that it wasn’t good for the fans, which was a load of bullshit. Dream sighs. Why is this affecting him so much? Dream crupples onto his desk, holding his head in his hands. Ok. So he’ll stop. Of course he would, but he just didn’t understand why stopping made him feel like this. The idea of not flirting- jokingly flirting- with George put him in such a bad place.

Dream reminds himself that he’s not selfish, he wouldn’t make George uncomfortable just because he found it amusing. That was the reason why they joke around, right? Because it was funny to them and the audience watching. Dream peeks out from under his arms to look at his phone. On the screen there was a new message from Sapnap. It looks like he sent it while he was talking to George. 

_“Don’t know.”_

Dream huffs out a breath. _Wow, thanks Sapnap for that insight. I wish I knew what was going on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So a few things right off the bat. I have mixed feelings about writing about real people. So, just to get this out of the way: I don't actually ship them. They're just fun to write. Also, it's really fun to write something that isn't an essay. If you ship them, that's fine. They have a fun dynamic, which is why it's so fun to write them. Just please don't take it too seriously, this could get really toxic. I'll try to update every Friday. Thanks for reading!!


	2. A Medieval Story

There were plenty of things Dream had expected when he became a faceless Minecraft Youtuber. 

Even though not a lot of people knew what he looked like, that even though much of his identity was unknown, he knew his life outside of Minecraft would change. Not just because he could afford to live away from his family, or that he could quit his crappy job selling frozen pizza. It would change his personality and the way his future would pan out. He also knew he was lucky that he hadn’t been recognized yet. When he really started to blow up during the summer, he wondered if he should make a conscious effort to hide his voice in some way out in public. After a while, he reasoned that if it’s going to happen it’s going to happen. HIs fans seemed pretty cool if it were to happen, and he didn't mind meeting people in person. It was just photos he minded. One day the world would know what he looked like, but let that be something in the murky future. He knew that he would make new friendships along the way, ones he didn’t even think were possible, like his friendship with Techno. He knew that interactions with his fans, in any form, would mean a lot to him. Honestly, his favorite part of his job was talking to chats, or commenting on Tik Toks. He liked that his community had a sense of humor, even if they canceled him for basically anything. 

He was also aware that his friendships would be tested in some way. 

With fame and money there was always some ugly level of toxicity brewing. He knew that if he wasn’t careful with communication and boundaries that his friendships would fizzle. He’s seen it so many times, in the tabloids and on Youtube. So he made sure to keep everything in check. They made sure to be light hearted about most things, but also know each other's boundaries and what topics that they shouldn’t joke about. 

What he hadn’t expected was for George to ask him to not flirt with him. 

It just wasn’t something that he thought would come up. 

He also hadn’t expected that it would be hard not to do so. 

The day after their short but troubling call, Dream and George found themselves on Sapnap’s stream. George was absent when Dream had called Sapnap about his new video idea the night before. Sapnap asked some questions about his absence, asking if Dream had talked to him, and Dream lied. Dream didn’t even know why he lied, but a huge wave of guilt and dread washed over him when Sapnap asked if Dream knew what was up with George. He tried to shrug it off, saying that he doesn’t know. Maybe George hasn’t been near his phone all day. And who’s to say if that was a lie? Even if George called Dream, and Dream could have told him about the video brainstorming party. Maybe George was absent for some other reason, it’s not like George had seemed painfully troubled when he asked Dream to basically fuck off. 

Oh wait. 

That was the most troubling part. George didn’t seem to _want_ to ask Dream to leave him alone. Dream had replayed those few minutes over and over again, the part he was most stuck on has the tone of George’s voice. It was almost like he was forcing himself to do it. Maybe a fan said something that rubbed George the wrong way, maybe that’s what he meant by _“it’s not good for the fans.”_ But if that were the case, then wouldn’t George say that? Wouldn’t George show Dream what happened? That’s what they usually do when they see something that goes too far. 

And the bigger issue still is why does Dream _care_ this much? 

Why did George asking him to stop make him feel so awful? Why couldn’t he tell Sapnap about what had happened? It was all far too confusing and gave him a headache. 

Dream shook his head and tried to focus on the present situation. Sapnap wanted to fix something on the SMP, and George happened to already be in the SMP when Sapnap went live. Dream joined later, and when he saw that George was in the call it’s not like he could have just left. That would have looked bad, and then Sapnap would have known for sure that something weird was going on. Dream steeled himself for the stream, telling himself to just be cool. It’s not like their friendship is ruined. 

“Hey guys.”

“Oh look! Dream’s awake.” Sapnap said in a mocking tone. Dream scoffed, and looked at the clock. It was 5:23 pm. He woke up hours ago, he just hadn’t talked to anyone yet today. 

“I got up a while ago, idiot.”

“Don’t act like your sleep schedule is good. What time did you get up yesterday? Huh? Huh?” Dream didn’t reply to that, though he was impressed that Sapnap figured out that he must have gotten up pretty late. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Dream muttered a “whatever” at that. On his second monitor he pulled up Sapnap’s stream so he could watch the chat. Right now most of them are excited he’s here, and also saying he got roasted. Sapnap and Dream banter for a little bit, but all the while George doesn’t say a thing. It gets to the point where Dream checks if George is still in the call or muted himself. In game, Dream finds George’s avatar. 

“Hey, George.” Dream is not an actor. He’s pretty bad at faking emotions, but he is pretty proud of how normal he sounded. If you weren’t looking for it, you couldn’t possibly hear how nervous Dream actually is. He wonders if George was looking for it. 

“Hey, Dream.” Dream is most definitely listening to see if George sounds nervous. And, again, if you weren’t listening for it you couldn’t hear it. There was just the slightest hesitation in his voice. Dream hopes that Sapnap doesn’t hear it. “What time did you wake up yesterday?” Yes, _normal conversation._ Dream could do this. _Yes._

“Like, almost 4 o’clock.” 

“Oh.” There’s a pause. _C’mon George, I’m doing the normal conversation thing so can you._ “I guess that makes sense, we were up pretty late the night before that.” Right, the night that apparently made you want me to stop flirting with you. Dream quickly scans the chat to see if anyone thinks this is weird. So far, no one has said anything. They’re more interested in what Sapnap is doing on screen. Why is talking to George so hard? Nothing's changed, but why does it feel like it has? 

“Oh my god.” Sapnap cuts in, laughing at himself. “George come over here and look at this hole that a creeper blew up. Kinda looks like your face.” Dream gives a low chuckle, while George sputters. George runs away from Dream in the game to go hit Sapnap, which turns into a full on fight. _Ok,_ Dream thinks to himself. _Everything is going ok, nothing to be nervous about._

After some time of Sapnap and George fighting, Dream breaks them up. It continues like this, Sapnap trying to decorate something but then gets distracted with trying to kill George. It’s pretty nice, since it doesn’t revolve around Dream. Dream can be pretty quiet and no one really notices. Dream was almost thinking about leaving early, saying he had to do something until George addresses him directly. 

“Dream! Please come rescue me from Sapnap!” 

Sapnap laughs, and then puts on his worst imitation of George, with a bad British accent and everything. “Yeah Dream, be George’s knight in shining armor.” Dream scoffs at Sapnap, and then expects everything to go downhill. He expects George to get awkward, to correct Sapnap. He expects the chat then to be confused why things are off. 

That’s not what happens. 

“Please be my handsome knight, Dream.” George says way too sweetly. 

What. 

Dream sputters at that, choking on a “what?!” _Why would he- If he wanted- What do I-_ Dreams mouth instantly dries. 

Dream’s brain mentally stops working. In game and in real life everything stops. He glances at the chat, which now has picked up that Dream is not responding, he’s not helping George. Fuck, I have to do something. What do I do? What am I allowed to do? Dream’s face heats up at his confusion, definitely not at George’s words. 

“I-” His voice is shaky, so he clears his throat and tries again. “What did you just say?” Dream hopes that George can find the meaning of this question. That he isn’t really asking George to repeat himself, he’s asking why would you say that when you clearly don’t want to flirt. Dream stares at the screen, trying to give George a look through his monitor. 

“You heard me.” George’s voice is light with a dark edge to it. He’s laughing and joking around, but yet it feels like there’s weight to what he said. _Does he not realize- He must-_

This situation would be normal two days ago. Two days ago, they could’ve taken this very far. Dream knows how he would have responded to this two days ago. Especially on another person’s stream. No one has to see George get flustered. Dream takes in his own state. He’s blushing, and obviously stuttering on his words. Dream takes a calming breath and looks over his options. He can’t flirt back, George asked him not too. But that’s what he normally would do, and that’s what everyone here perceives as normal. So what can he do? He could change the subject, or say nothing and defend George. He thinks on all of these, and realizes the best course of action is to bail completely. 

“Uh, right. Actually, I gotta go water Patches. So bye.” Sapnap stutters out a wait, but he already had discord pulled up and leaves the call. He keeps the stream going, just makes sure it's still on mute as he watches the chat. He doesn’t need to hear Sapnap making fun of him. Most people think he’s coming right back, that it’s a joke. Some are begging Sapnap to get Dream back in the call. And a few are noting how strange it is that he left. A select few comment that he left when George flirted with him. His phone dings next to him. He glances at it. 

“Are you coming back?” -Sapnap

He ignores it. He closes out of the stream and walks out of the room, thinking that it's best to just leave this situation entirely. 

He still has to film a video with Sapnap today, so he’ll have to get himself composed before that. 

Dream walks to his living and goes for his couch. He faceplants onto it, but has enough composure to hold in his screams of frustration and confusion. There was a storm of information running in his mind. Why did George say that? Usually Dream comments on George’s looks since George has no idea what Dream even looks like. It never goes the other way around. It doesn’t make sense the other way around. Does George just assume that Dream is handsome? He laughs humorlessly into his couch. And more importantly: why would George even _say_ that? If he didn’t want to joke around anymore, why would he joke around? Should Dream talk to George about it? No, he decides. At least not today. He’ll bring it up casually, maybe tomorrow. After a while, his heart rate goes down, he feels somewhat normal, just a little tightness in his chest. Dream sighs, realizing that it’s not comfortable to smash his face into the couch. He pulls himself on his side and stares at the wall. 

Was the call last night a fever dream? Was George playing a prank on him? Maybe he was trying to see how long Dream could go without flirting. This is all just a test. Yeah, that’s the only answer that makes sense. That’s why George sounded like he didn’t want to do this, because he actually _didn’t_ want to do this. It was just to see how far Dream could make it. Maybe Sapnap was in on it. Dream closes his eyes and tries to imagine that conversation. If it did end up being a joke, then is Dream happy about that? Then that would mean that George wasn’t actually uncomfortable. But that still doesn’t explain why Dream has been so broken by George not wanting to flirt anymore. 

Dream pulls himself into a sitting position. If that’s how it’s going to be, then bring it. He can restrain from flirting with the incredibly cute George. He can refrain to make George flustered, he can stop himself from it. He can even ignore the reason why he wants to do these things in the first place. Not that there is a reason. But George flirting with Dream is unfair, and he’d have to tell George that. Dream looks at the clock hanging innocently on the wall. It’s almost 8 o’clock. Sapnap had wanted to film at 8:30 tonight. Dream sighs and starts to get prepared. He fills his water bottle and grabs some snacks, he had some sour patch kids on the kitchen counter so those will do. He heads back to his recording room. Dream must have spent an hour or two on his couch. He checks Twitch quickly, seeing that Sapnap stopped streaming 20 minutes after he left. Dream settles himself on his chair, and checks his phone that he left on the desk. He almost expected George to text him, but he didn’t. Neither has Sapnap. He sighs. He tried to clear his mind as much as possible because he needs to record with Sapnap. He needs to be able to both be funny and play the game. Dream sends a text to him that he’s ready to go. 

Sapnap had the idea to try to beat the game starting in the end. Not much coding needed to happen, since they agreed that they would just start at an End City and then bridge to the dragon. All the loot they needed would be from the End City, so they just had to trust that they could find them. It was probably going to be a really long video to record. Dream loads up his game and waits for Sapnap to be ready. At exactly 8:31, he gets a text explaining where to go for the server. Dream logs in and joins Sapnap on Discord. He starts up his screen recorder as well. 

“There’s my little pissbaby!” Sapnap exclaims in another horrible British accent. Dream sighs, realizes that of course this was what was going to happen. It hadn't dawned on Dream that it was probably very rude to just bail with no explanation on Sapnap. It's totally fair that Sapnap might be a little salty. Dream looks around on his screen, viewing a part of the end he rarely visits. Maybe he can just ignore it. 

“Hello, Sapnap.” Dream says in the most monotone voice he can produce. He can hear Sapnap typing over Discord, probably still setting something up. Dream takes a sip from his water bottle, and digs into his sour patch kids. After a while, Sapnap seems to finish whatever he was doing.

“Ok, are you ready?”

“I mean I’m always ready. I was waiting on you.” Dream wipes his hands off on his jeans to get rid of the sugar stuck there. 

“Oh, like your mom waits for me?” Dream laughs at that, yelling at him to shut up. _Yes, light hearted humor,_ he could do that. Sapnap introduces the video, and then they start. First, of course, they hit each other into the void for about ten minutes. But after that they get started on the challenge. Just as Dream suspected, this ended up being a very long night. Sapnap had said that they should be close to an End City to start, just so they wouldn’t be searching for hours with no access to blocks. Still, with that one End City they had to share one pickaxe between the two of them. They didn’t have much for food either, which became a problem early on. Their solution was to kill themselves to reset the hunger bar. They just needed to be sure that they cleared their inventory before doing so. They decided to keep looking for one more End City. There was a lull in conversation, and that’s when Sapnap brought up his stream. 

“So. You kinda bailed on my stream today.” Dream stiffens and looks at the clock. It was almost 10:00 PM, about an hour and a half of not bringing this topic up. How he misses that time. Gone but not forgotten. 

“Yeah, I did.” No point in lying, he did it. He would just try not to say anything incriminating. 

“Yeah. Then George left like 5 minutes after that. It got kind of weird so I ended my stream.” Dream makes a little grunt at that. He hadn’t stayed long enough to see George leave, or the reaction that the chat had to that. Dream sort of figured that George might have left, since George probably had figured out why Dream left. God, he was happy he hadn’t checked Twitter yet today. “So.” Sapnap cuts into Dream’s train of thought. “What happened?” Sapnap seems hesitant, clearly he wants to say more here, but he restrains himself. 

“I just…” Dream spent about two hours on a couch thinking about this situation and he hadn’t even come up with an excuse for his actions. Did George have one? “I thought it would be funny and then I realized that I had stuff to do.” Sapnap hums at that. That’s not a bad excuse, for coming up with it on the spot. But his delivery was spotty, so he’s not sure if Sapnap bought it. By the sound of that hum, it seems like he didn’t. 

“That’s why you didn’t text back? And that’s why George got supper weird after you left?” Dream restrains himself from asking about George. He could rewatch the vod if need be, but he honestly doubts he will. That would be too embarrassing. 

“I left my phone on my desk.” He’s not… lying. He supposes. He doesn’t mention George, not sure how many lies he can tell at once. God, he has never lied like this to Sapnap. Usually they can talk freely. Sure, George is usually the one Dream goes to for more emotional support, but still. He's always been honest with Sapnap. This isn’t like him. He’s just spinning more and more lies. Sapnap hums again, clearly not buying what Dream is saying, but he stops asking. They film the rest of the video without bringing up the subject. After an awkward lull in their banter, it comes back when they start making actual progress in the challenge. They actually get pretty far with it, they bridge to the dragon, and things look pretty good until Sapnap falls into the void with every tool they need. They call it quits after that. Dream promises to send Sapnap his point of view of the video in the morning. Both exhausted and bitter from the loss, they hang up at 1:53 AM. 

Dream stretches in his chair, almost too tired to even bother getting up. Eventually he gets the motivation to stand up and walk the few steps to his room. He flops onto the bed, too lazy to change out of his clothes. His jeans would leave marks in his legs, they wouldn’t be comfortable to sleep in, but he didn’t care. He decides to scroll through Tik Tok before calling it a night. There’s a few things that manage to pull a light chuckle out of him, but mostly he finds himself bored as he keeps scrolling down into the abyss that is his fyp. Then he finds a girl’s video talking about how Dream left Sapnap’s stream today. God, he thinks to himself, there was a reason I didn’t go on Twitter, why did I go on Tik Tok? Dream sighs and watches the short video. She talked about how George flirted with him and he left. She said maybe it was because he complimented his looks, that maybe George knows what Dream looks like. That maybe Dream did a face reveal for George. _Isn’t that a thought._ Then, she says, George realized his mistake and then left the stream as well. They then played the audio of him stuttering over his words. At the end they had a slowed down version of George saying, “My handsome knight.” Hopefully that doesn’t become an edit. Dream goes to the comments, where they all agree that the stream was weird. The top comment is how Dream and George barely interacted with each other. Dream closes the app and plugs in his phone for the night. He stares up at the ceiling, trying to sort through his thoughts. He should talk to George about this, clearly. It was all he could think about all day. It affected his ability to stream, to record. And the fans noticed, and more importantly Sapnap noticed. Sapnap could give him shit for life if he knew the reason why this was all happening. 

Dream turns over in his bed, kicking at the sheets. He’ll talk to George tomorrow. Probably. _Maybe._ He drifts off to sleep with George’s word of calling him a handsome knight bouncing in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I thought I'd post this chapter early just to get the ball rolling on this fic. Don't get used to this lol, I just worked ahead. I'll still post on friday this week. Thanks for reading!


	3. A Cute Moment

“Write down these chords, please.” 

He leaves the chords up for half a minute until he figures that chat must have gotten them down. He runs around on screen, looking for a fortress. 

He likes streaming, he really does. He just almost never does it. There are too many things that could, and sometimes do, go wrong. So what usually ends up happening is he goes to other people’s streams. It’s both a way to support his friends as well as get around that pesky problem. Also, most of his friends stream so it’s one of the only ways to hang out with them. When he does manage to stream on his own account, it’s either for a big event, like MCC, or something chill. Today, he needed something chill. Something where he could talk to chat, tell some stories, and not have to think that hard about what he was doing. He didn’t have to think about the last two days of his life. His friends were also welcome to come and join him, but no one had so far. He’s sort of happy about that, given recent events. He doesn’t know how he would deal if he had to be alone in a call with his friends right now. Or a certain person. He didn’t have much to distract himself from his own thoughts, though. To combat this he lowered the donation minimum for this stream, so he could answer a few questions. He had mixed feelings about donations, not really liking that people had to pay money just to ask him a question, but there was no way around that system so he had to work with it. He didn't stream for the money, so donations always gave him a weird feeling. It had been at least an hour since he started this stream. He got one good run in so far, but that’s it. Not that he was trying for a record, he made that pretty clear in the beginning of the stream. He just wanted to get some practice in and hang out with the chat. He figured he could go for another hour or two before calling it quits. 

The donation sound rings through his ears. He looks at his second monitor to read the message. 

_“Hey, hope you’re having a good day. Just wondering what’s your least favorite color? Thanks!”_

He smiles at that. 

“My day is good, I hope your day is going good as well. My least favorite color? I don’t know, I might get canceled if I say it.” He thinks for a few seconds, humming a little. He looks at the chat, who’s promising not to cancel him for it. He knows they won’t, probably. They might do it as a joke, though. He sighs. “I don’t know, really. I haven’t put much thought into it. What’s the opposite of green?” He tries to remember his senior year art class, they had talked about the color wheel. He tries to picture it in his mind. “Um, isn’t it red?” He glances at chat to see people spamming red. “I kind of like red, though. What about, like, light purple?” He gives the idea a few seconds to manifest in his mind. “Yeah. Screw light purple. Like, that milky purple shade? Gross.” He increases the volume of his voice, leaning into the joke. “And if you like light purple, honestly, leave. We can’t be associated with each other. If Sapnap came up to me and says,” He puts his best impersonation of Sapnap on, which is just a high voice, “ _‘Dream, I need to tell you something. My favorite color is milky lavender purple,’_ I think I’d kick him. I’d drive to Texas and kick him.” He chuckles lowly, watching some people in the chat defend light purple. “Thanks for the donation.” 

Things continue like this for a while. It’s not necessarily an exciting stream, but it still feels good to just hang out with his fans. He knows he should stream more, and whenever he does stream his chat reminds him of this. He tries to focus solely on the game and his chat, not letting his mind wonder at all. After another hour, he thinks about ending it. The stream wasn’t too exciting, and he's started to get a headache from staring at his screen for too long. There is a lull in the energy right now, it feels like it’s a good time to stop. There were a few good moments in there, he died pretty hilariously during one run. There were a few good donos, but his voice is getting a little horse.

“This is probably the last run I’m going to do, guys.” He watches the protests come up in the chat. “I know, I know. I’ll stream again, sometime. Let’s make this last run a good one.” He starts up a new world. He spawns right next to a village. Fair enough, he thinks. He’ll at least get to the nether in this run. Right after he got into the nether, the donation sound goes off. He glances at it. 

_“Hey pissbaby. What are some things you like about Sapnap and Gogy?”_

He laughs, but he can already feel his mouth drying. He was trying really hard not to think about George. That was the whole point of this stream. He almost made it to the end. 

“You know, if you want someone to answer your question, then maybe don’t call them a pissbaby.” He laughs again. Could he get away from answering it? Probably not, that would be really rude. He thinks for a minute. “I mean, I’ve known both of them for a long time now. They’ve been there for me countless times. But like, do you mean personality traits?” He pauses for a second. “I think Sapnap is one of the funniest guys I know. But he also knows when to stop joking around and take things seriously. Not a lot of people can do both.” He pauses for another moment, looking over the chat. Most people are cooing at him, as well as some people calling him a simp. He shakes his head and looks back at the game. He tries to prepare himself for talking about George. _Don’t be weird,_ he tells himself. He doesn’t need to say a lot, his fans will respect his privacy with this stuff. They usually do. “And George is like, really good at coding.” _That’s not a personality trait._ He did a personality trait for Sapnap, he should do one for George. Make it even. “So, that means he’s at least sort of smart.” _That sounds sarcastic._ “Um, he’s also pretty funny.” _That just sounds like you’re comparing him to Sapnap._ “He’s also like, cute, you know.” Dream stops in game to clamp a hand over his mouth, making an audible smacking sound. He hopes his microphone didn’t catch that. His face heats up immediately. _Why did he say that? What on Earth possessed him to say that._ “I-I mean-” He clears his throat and tries to ignore that he’s stuttering. “He’s like small, right? That’s cute.” The _fuck_ is wrong with him? “That’s what I meant. Ha. He’s small.” He has the weirdest urge to tug at his shirt collar, which he fights down. Dream refuses to look at the chat. He goes silent for a couple minutes, trying not to dig the hole any deeper. He sits straight up, completely focusing on the game and not about what just came out of his mouth. In the corner of his vision he can see how fast the chat is flying by. He ignores it, willing himself to just get through this run. The donation sound goes off again. He looks at what it is. Maybe it’ll change the topic.

_“It’s ok, Dream. George thinks you’re a handsome knight so…”_

Dream finds the nearest lava and kills himself in it. 

“Oh no.” He comments, very sarcastically. “That sucks. Welp,” he says, popping the “p,” “that was the last run of the stream. Thanks for coming. Bye.” He closes the stream in record time, not even willing to raid someone. Not willing to give the chat time to react. He rests his forehead onto the cool surface of his desk, trying to make his face cool down. What is _wrong_ with him? His tiny little mess up the other day ended up as a Tik Tok audio, this huge mess up will end up all over social media. He groans to himself. How is he going to live this down? His phone starts buzzing next to him, which pulls a groan of annoyance from him. He would like to sulk in peace, thank you very much. He moves his head to the side to see who’s calling him. He taps the screen and Sapnap’s icon comes into view. Sighing, he presses accept and puts him on speaker, too lazy to have the phone up to his ear. He’s greeted to Sapnap’s full blown laughter. Dream groans loud enough for Sapnap to hear. Sapnap quiets down, but still chuckles lightly. 

“Man, what have you been _on_ the last few days?” Dream returns to his original position, his head facing down towards the floor. He groans again, not wanting to even talk. “Seriously dude, are you doing alright?” Dream sighs at this. He can still hear Sapnap’s laughter in his voice, but now there is a serious edge to it. Dream has messed up enough to worry Sapnap. 

“I don’t know.” It’s the most honest answer he can give. Dream honestly doesn’t understand what’s happening to him. Dream turns his head to face the phone again. Already feeling awkward with this conversation, Dream shuffles his feet underneath himself. He hears Sapnap sigh over the phone, clearly feeling the same wave of awkwardness with where this conversation seems to be going. 

“Man, I didn’t see this coming. Both you and George having to talk to me like this. I-”

“Wait, both? George did? What happened?” Dream sits up a little bit, listens a little closer. A few seconds of silence pass them by. 

“Uh. Yeah, George called me after my stream yesterday. And like three days before that. I don’t-”

“What happened? Is he ok?” A few more seconds of silence go by. After the pause, Sapnap gives a small chuckle. 

“I don’t think I can tell you what’s happening. That’s his job. But I think he’ll be ok. I think it’ll work out for him, he just doesn’t think that way.” Sapnap seems to be putting weight onto those words, but they’re just meaningless to Dream. Without context it doesn’t mean anything. Dream sighs, knowing this is all he’ll get out of Sapnap anyway. “Anyway,” Sapnap drawls, “let’s talk about you now.” Dream sighs at that, relaxing into his desk again. His hands go to his mouse, and he methodically plays with it, calming himself. “What’s making you bail on streams lately?” Dream doesn’t want to answer that. Dream doesn’t even know how to answer that, he knows what topic that makes him bail: George. But he doesn’t know why that would make him feel so off. Dream just keeps playing with his mouse, feeling like a complete child. After his silence, Sapnap continues. “Ok. Well. I can tell you what it looks like from the outside. We’ll start there, ok?” Dream stays silent. “Ok. This is a conversation, you’ll have to respond at some point.” Dream sinks lower into his chair. “What it looks like to me is whenever George is brought up in a certain way, you freak out. Now, is this true: yes or no?” 

“...it’s not like that-”

“Dream. Yes or no?” Sapnap cuts him off pointedly. Dream lets out a breath. 

“Yes, I guess. But-”

“Ok. So we got that out of the way.” Dream scowls at his phone. “Now. In what certain way? My guess is when something romantic-”

“Don’t say that-”

“You got some evidence that says otherwise?” Sapnap raises his voice a little. Dream closes his mouth, words dying on his tongue. Not that he needs to defend himself, he knows what he feels, right? “That’s what I thought. George complimented you, you freaked out and left. You said some weird shit about George, then someone brings up that George complimented you, you freaked out and left again. That’s what happened, right?” There’s a pause. “Right?”

“...yeah.”

“God, you’re stubborn. We’re just going over what happened, not how you feel yet, and you’re pushing back so much.” Dream sighs. He closes his eyes and tries to relax. Of course Sapnap’s right, he has a bad habit of doing this, of being stubborn. He wills himself not to hang up on him. “Ok. So my guess is that you can’t handle George complimenting you right now, even though you could a few days ago. So maybe in the last few days the way you feel about George has changed, maybe-”

“No, I’m stopping you there.” Dream’s stomach twists at the thought at how Sapnap was going to finish his sentence. What was he going to finish it with? Why would that give him a weird feeling? He shoves down his feelings and continues. “And let me talk.” He hears Sapnap take a breath, but he doesn’t say anything. Dream takes that as his green light to keep going. “You’re not wrong. I can’t take George complimenting me because-,” he rushes the words to make sure Sapnap doesn’t cut him off. “ _Because_ George told me not to flirt with him anymore.” There’s silence over the line. 

“He-He told you that?” Sapnap sounds really confused. 

“Yes.”

“Like, verbatim? When did _that_ happen?”

“Two days ago. He called me and told me that we should stop flirting with each other because it’s bad for the fans.” There’s another beat of silence over the line. Dream pushes himself back into a sitting position on his chair. He takes the chance to explain himself further. “So, when George, you know, flirted with me on your stream, I didn’t know what to do. So I left. And then it was brought up again on my stream, so I felt it was the most respectful thing to do to leave before the chat could go crazy with that last donation. I thought that maybe George slipped up or something, so then I needed to leave.” Dream has never thought that, but it almost made sense when he said it out loud. He’s getting pretty good at talking right off the cuff. Sapnap is quiet for a few moments before coming back to the conversation. 

“Why didn't George tell- That makes no sense, why would George do that?” Dream sighs at that. Sapnap sounds really confused. There goes his theory for Sapnap being in on it, that it was all a big prank on him. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. It never is. Maybe it was a prank, but Sapnap didn’t know. Then was George just doing this for himself? That made no sense. 

“That’s what I thought when he called me.”

“No, I mean- Actually-” Sapnap groans. “God, this is a minefield.” Dream tilts his head at that, but Sapnap doesn’t address it further. “Ok. Fine, he said that for whatever reason. I don’t think that’s the reason why you’re being so weird, though.” Something swirls around in Dream's chest at that. 

“What do you mean-”

“That doesn’t explain why you got so weird when you called George ‘cute.’” Dream’s mouth goes dry. “That explanation you gave me explains why you would act weird if George flirted with you. Yeah, I’d be confused, but I wouldn’t freak out. I’d call him and ask him what’s up. Have you done that? Have you called him about what happened on my stream?" Dream doesn’t respond to that, which is enough of an answer to Sapnap. “Ok, that’s weird of _you._ Even more, I wouldn’t then call him cute and small. It doesn’t explain why you flirted with him, when he asked you not to.”

“That’s not flirting-”

“I’m not here to define flirting, Dream!” Sapnap sounds annoyed now. “You know what I think? I think you want to flirt with George, not for the fans. But because you solely want to. And now that you can’t, you realized that you wanted to this whole time. You realized that you really want to and now you’re having a crisis. That's why you couldn’t talk to me about it last night. If it was just about George, then you could have voiced your confusion to me. But you didn’t. Because you wanted to hit on him still and you're confused as to why. You felt shitty because of it. Am I right?” Dream doesn’t have anything to say to that. He stares at his phone, trying to grasp onto anything to give to Sapnap. Sapnap voiced everything Dream has felt in the last few day, yet Dream can’t believe it still. _That can't be the reason._

“I’m just upset that my best friend is uncomfortable with something that I did. I’m mad at myself.” Dream says slowly. How untrue is that? Very, he supposes. 

“Bullshit.” Dream groans, looking anywhere but his phone. It's like Sapnap can read his mind. He stares at the wall. The wall is a lovely color of expired milk. And the texture- _Wow._ “Look,” Dream tries to block Sapnap out but fails miserably. He still continues to stare at the wall out of spite. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you when you’re still in denial.” Dream has a retort to that but bites his tongue, knowing how it’ll look to argue that point. “Call me when you’re ready for this conversation, ok? God, I hope this is over with soon.” Sapnap mutters the last part, quiet enough that Dream barely hears it. And with that, Sapnap hangs up. 

Dream bangs his head softly against the desk. That might have been the most confusing phone call he’s ever had, as well as one of the most frustrating. God, he's having a lot of odd phone calls lately. What did Sapnap even mean by most of it? Why was he angry at the end? What did George call Sapnap about? Dream has the strongest urge to throw his phone across the room. He picks it up and seriously contemplates it. He turns it over and taps the home button. A few notifications are there, but one stands out. 

George tweeted at him. 

He gets so much of a shock out of this that he leans too far back on his chair and it flips to the ground. The sound of plastic wheels scraping on the ground registers before the pain hits him. His back takes most of the impact, but the momentum makes him slide a little onto the floor. He groans as his back throbs in pain. He settles, laying on the floor. He lets out a short hiss of a breath, and decides to look at the tweet. 

_@Dream am i really that small?_

He used his main account for this too. Dream swears under his breath, not knowing what to do or how to feel. He stares up at the ceiling for a moment. He tries to examine his thoughts as they come. He knows what he _wants_ to do. He just doesn't know what he should do. 

George has flirted with him after he told him not to. That means something. Dream isn’t sure on what yet but it has some kind of weight to it. Dream closes his eyes, trying to figure out what to do as well as ignore the constant onslaught of pain. He tries to remember the exact wording of the phone call. Did George say that he would stop flirting with Dream? Did he say _we_ should stop? Dream couldn’t remember, he was in too much of a state of shock to notice word choice. Even though this conversation happened, George flirted with Dream, and then Dream called George cute. Normally, they would have said a lot more to each other. They’ve made bits out of hitting on each other. Normally, this tweet would have been so easy to answer. 

But if George was flirting with him, and then acknowledging that Dream complimented him… why can’t he tweet something flirtatious back? 

What’s stopping him? George’s irrational fear of it not being good for the fans? No. 

Perhaps it’s the fact that Dream is in a lot of physical pain right now, or perhaps it’s the fact that he really wants to reply to this tweet, but he opens twitter and tweets out the following:

 _@georgenotfound I also called you cute._

He adds a blushing face at the end of it. After about a minute, George replies with his own blushing face. Dream stares at that blushing face, trying to uncover the hidden meaning in it. It takes Dream a minute to realize that his face hurts from smiling too hard. He puts his phone to his chest and closes his eyes. He wasn’t sure if this was going to have repercussions. He didn’t really care. He can already see the likes and comments, and he’s sure he’ll see this on Tik Tok later. Why does he do this to himself? Dream turns his head to the side, looking at the wall, still smiling like an idiot. It did feel good to have this small piece of their dynamic back. He tries not to think about the phone call that happened between them, he tries to pretend that the phone call never happened. He wants to enjoy this moment like he usually would: smiling and blushing where no one could see him. He rubs a hand on his face, massaging the aching muscles there. But this isn’t normal. Dread washes over him slowly, as well his anxiety. He can’t enjoy this moment because it’s been tainted. He sighs and sits up, wincing as he moves his sore back. He slowly manages to get up and get his chair back to the right position. 

The only thing he knows for sure is that Sapnap is going to give him so much shit for this tweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading. I have finals next week, so hopefully it all goes well. Then the week after that is the holidays, so I'll be very busy. I'll try not to miss an update, but I might miss one in the next two weeks. I definitely won't miss both, but just so you guys know. Thanks!!!


	4. Florida Bound

Dream traces the darkened phone screen with his index finger. Focusing entirely on the smooth texture. He lets go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. _Just call him,_ he says to himself. This call needs to happen sooner rather than later anyway. Dream has been trying to hype himself up like this for the last 15 minutes. He sits on the edge of his bed, just trying to gain the confidence to talk to George. Somehow he thinks that this call could either ruin everything or set things right. There is a little light coming into the room through his curtains. If he bothered to look outside he’d see everything blanketed in an orange gaze. He’s almost never up this early, usually the noon sun greets him. Part of the reason he’s awake is because he knew George would be up by now, and another part not being able to sleep any longer. After his call with Sapnap yesterday, a seed of worry had infested him. Like most of his feelings lately, he doesn’t know what it’s about. What is he worried about? He reasons that he must be worried for his friendship with George. They haven’t gone for days like this without calling each other, without texting each other. He keeps getting the feeling that he’s somehow messing something up. That he hasn’t been acting the way he should, that he hasn't been reacting correctly. His call with Sapnap made him realize this, he has no excuse for his actions recently. And that he needs to talk to George, there's no getting out of it. Dream pushes through the thick fog of worry and pulls up their conversation. Quickly texting almost the same exact text that started this whole thing before he loses his nerve. 

_“Hey, can I call you?”_

Dream honestly doesn’t know how long it’ll take George to reply. How long did Dream take? Half an hour, maybe. Dream resigns himself to just laying on his bed until George texts back. He can wait that long, it’ll give him time to prepare. He lightly tosses his phone to the side and lays back down, staring up at the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he tries to control his breathing. What is he even going to say? _‘Hey George, the fuck is up with you?’ ‘What are the exact rules to not flirting with you?’ ‘Can I have like, a rubric?’_ And will talking to George even fix how he feels right now? Will it stop Sapnap’s words of _‘you want to flirt with George’_ from bouncing around in his head? A hollow feeling fills his body. When was the last time he’s constantly felt this shitty? His relationship with both of his best friends is rocky right now, to say the least. And it’s his own fault. What happened to good communication? What happened to all his planning? Dream lets out a low groan of frustration. He’ll fix this or die trying. He thinks it’s something that he can fix, at least. Hopefully. His phone goes off next to him, filling his room with a bright sound. He doesn’t move for a few moments, still trying to gather any confidence that he has for this phone call. He slowly gets himself into a sitting position and takes his phone into his hands. As a comfort, he feels the smooth glass screen of his phone one last time before looking at the message. 

_“I’m free now.”_

A wicked wave of worry threads it’s way through him. It’s almost an out of body experience, being this nervous. He takes a deep breath to try to rid himself of it, and calls George. In the back of his mind he notes that it only took George 5 minutes to reply to him. The phone rings twice before George picks up. 

“Hey.” George sounds normal. Quiet, but normal. For some reason Dream wanted him to be nervous, to make him feel better about how he was feeling. Dream wonders if he’ll sound even close to normal. He wonders if George will be able to detect his nervousness right away. 

“Hey, how are you?” There’s a pause, a slight hesitation. 

“I’m ok.” George stretches out the words. “Wait, hold on.” He hears rustling on the other end, and then the loud noise of a door closing. Dream shuffles around in his own sitting position, shifting his weight and adjusting his posture. After another few seconds of rustling, George returns. “Ok, I’m back. Sorry. How are you?” 

“No worries.” They’re tip toeing, Dream knows it and George probably knows it. It’s the awkward phase of not bringing up the reason why he called. Does George know the reason? Probably, he’s not stupid. “I’m ok. Tired.”

“Yeah? I guess it’s pretty early for you. What happened to waking up at four?” It’s light hearted enough that anyone who didn’t know them wouldn’t have a second thought on their friendship. It’s almost there. It’s so close to being normal. Dream wants it to be there so badly. Just this, just this slice of his normal friendship with George gives Dream such a spike of happiness. Maybe if he keeps ignoring the reason he called, he can keep having this. 

“Oh, you know. What can I say? I’m a legend who can fix their sleep schedule in a day.” He hears George scoff at that

“You and I both know that’s wrong.” There’s a light laugh to his voice, which pulls a small smile from Dream. It’s so good to have this back, even though it’s not real. Even though it’s forced. 

“I don’t want to hear you talk. You’re up late in _my_ timezone! Your sleep schedule is worse than mine.” George lightly chuckles at that. 

“Yeah whatever, usually it’s because you and Sapnap don’t have time to film during the day so you guys end up screwing me out of sleep.” They’ve had this conversation before, many times. Usually they’re raising their voices and insulting each other, but now they’re far too quiet. It still isn’t correct. A small jolt of fear pierces through Dream. _Is this where we’re at right now?_ He tries to ignore it and continues to push for normalcy. 

“You agreed to it.” 

“Yeah, what a good deal it was. Film videos with a faceless voice and some dude in Texas. My parents are so proud.” George laughs at his joke, which Dream hums at. 

“Faceless? Is that all I am to you?” Dream asks a little too innocently, a little too sweetly. A little too late, Dream realizes the implications of what he just said. He grips the edge of his bed. Is this really the segue to the topic of their conversation? Is Dream that insensitive? There’s a pause over the line. _Fix it now,_ he thinks. What is there to say? How can I make this right? How can I make George happy? 

What if-

“Why don’t you come over one day and see my face? Would that make the deal better?” This was something he never offered. George always pushed meeting him, either Dream going to the UK, or him coming to Florida, but Dream always declined. He’s always been, for a lack of a better word, afraid. Afraid that once George knew what he looked like, the magic would be gone. The joke would be dead, the anticipation dissolved. His brain catches up with him, telling him that he probably shouldn’t have said that. That he’s never offered that for a reason. But the possibility of meeting George, seeing him, taking him to his favorite places- It did something to him. Hope, something that he hasn’t felt in the last few days, enters his system. It did enough to keep him talking. It did enough for him to actually offer it, to actually consider having George in Florida. “Seriously. Get a hotel for a few days and visit. Why not? We can vlog it, give the fans an actual vlog. I’d be up for it.” Would he? Dream stands up and starts pacing in his room. “We can, I don’t know, do stuff. I could invite Sapnap, he could drive over. Why not?” After a second, he hears a rush of air from the other side of the line. 

“I would like that.” George sounds… breathless? Dream stops pacing, realizing he lost his train of thought. Dream files that observation away, and swallows the thick lump in his throat. 

“Really?” Dream hates how hopeful he sounds. What is with him just taking out of his ass recently? This wasn’t the reason he called. 

“Yeah. Um, if you don’t mind. Could I just meet you?” George rushes out the next string of words. “I mean, I could book a flight to Texas right after, but I don’t think I could take meeting both of you guys at the same time. That would be a lot.” 

“That’s fine.” Secretly, Dream is happy that George feels this way. Not that he would ever admit to it since it sounds selfish of him. “So. What day?” Is this actually going to happen? Are they going to plan it now? 

“Um. Let me look up flights and look at my schedule. Where do you live? Like, in Florida?” Wow, a lot of information is being shared right now. George will see his face and know where he lives. Dream decides not to give out too much at first. 

“Fly to Miami, that’s the best option. Get a hotel there too. Actually, I’ll look for the hotel, you look for the flight.” He hears George’s faint typing over the phone. God, this was happening. Dream rushes to his computer and starts looking for good hotels. He looks at the ratings and availability for the next month. Maybe he should look for the next few months, it’s a little ridiculous to book something for this month. He’s about to voice this when George’s voice breaks through. 

“Ok, how about in three weeks, to the day.” Dream short circuits at that. _Three weeks?!_ That’s so soon. He clears his throat, trying to sort through his thoughts enough to give a coherent answer. 

“Um. That works for your schedule?” Dream pulls up his own schedule on his computer, looking three weeks in advance to see if he has anything big planned. Nothing, that week is almost empty. His hands start to sweat. This is happening fast. They’re planning this so fast. Dream has the suspicion that George is probably rushing this so that Dream can’t back out, but he doesn't want to. Dream always had anxiety over his friends, especially George, meeting him. But now he’s nothing but excited. Excitedly nervous, excitedly hopeful. Part of him feels like it’s too soon, another part is screaming that it’s not soon enough. 

“Yeah. I found a flight. Does that work for you? That day?” George sounds so happy. His voice is light and hopeful. Dream smiles as he looks for hotels that are available. He finds one that’s highly rated and pretty expensive. He clicks on it to investigate further. 

“Yeah, I’m free that week. I think I found you a hotel.” Dream picks out a room, one of the most expensive ones. A suite on a high floor. Walk in shower, king sized bed, beautiful decor, all overlooking Miami. Perfect. Somehow picking a hotel for George is a big deal. Dream wants it to be good. George would probably be fine with staying at a Motel 6, but Dream can’t even bear the thought. “How long do you want to stay? Like how many nights?” George hums at this. 

“How about four nights? I’ll get there in the evening, rest, then we’ll have three full days.” Dream plugs in four nights, and watches the price raise. He plugs in George’s information for his check in, and then his own payment information. 

“Ok, I’m about to book the hotel.”

“I already booked the flight.” Dream laughs at this, and then presses confirm on his screen. 

“I’ll send you the information, then.” Dream emails George everything about the hotel. He waits a few seconds, wondering if George will notice the price of everything. He grins to himself, knowing that George is likely to freak out. 

“Ok I got it. I can’t believe this is happening. I want-” George cuts himself off. “Dream.” George’s voice gets darker, filled with shock. “Wait, how much is that in pounds?” George says this slightly away from his phone. Dream chuckles and let's George do the calculations, listening to George type faintly. Dream leans back in his seat and smiles wider to himself. This isn’t the usual high he gets when he donates a large sum of money to someone, it’s different. It feels more personal, somehow. After a few seconds, George’s laughter fills the air. “Dream! Did you pick the most expensive hotel you could find?! Almost three thousand pounds for four nights? Are you insane?”

“You’re welcome.” Dream says smugly. 

“You’re insane.” George then goes into a fit of laughs. Nothing held back, just pure joy. Dream smiles even wider, enjoying the feeling of normalcy between them, even if this is something that is definitely not normal. George is coming here, Dream thinks to himself. This is something that he knows that George has wanted for a long time, and it’s something Dream wasn’t sure he was comfortable with doing. But now that there’s a plan, Dream finds himself at ease. Not only does he find himself anxiously looking forward to the date, but also this solidifies that their friendship isn’t broken. Dream marks his calendar. 21 days from now, George will only be about an hour away. 

They plan a little bit more, really working through their schedules before they end the call, George saying he wants to stream because he hasn’t in awhile. George puts in the group chat with Sapnap that he’s going to Florida. Sapnap freaks out and feigns feeling left out, to which George comments how he already bought a ticket to Houston from Miami. Sapnap seems happy, but puts in some suggestive messages, which neither Dream nor George respond to. Dream figures that Sapnap and George are going off and planning everything out. Dream hasn’t felt this polarized in a while. He feels as light as a feather, while at the same time feeling guilt weigh on his shoulders. He completely dodged the reason he wanted to talk to George, and to make George happy he agreed to meet him. It’s not like him to not act so disingenuous. Dream reasons with himself that they’ll talk about it later, they had to at some point. He just didn't want to end the call on such an off note, so he just didn’t bring it up. And George never asked. Dream has George’s stream pulled up currently, but only has the sound playing. He’s looking through his emails while still trying to keep up with George. Not that he’s really following what’s happening on stream, it’s more just listening to George’s voice. 

That sounds weird. 

It’s more just if something interesting happens, Dream will catch it. Yeah. That’s the reason. Definitely not that it’s comforting to hear George’s voice float through his head while he reads the most boring emails. Seriously, what is this? _‘We would love for you to do your face reveal for our product…’_ Delete. He still goes through his emails just to see if anything good is there, sometimes there’s a diamond in the rough. He also had to send some emails about the coming visit with George, telling some people that he needed that week basically off. That he didn’t want to be disturbed. Dream sighs, and goes to where he booked the hotel. He plugs in the address in Google maps and sees just how far of a drive it is. An hour and 13 minutes. A jolt of lightning goes through his heart as he looks at that number. He’s glad that George didn’t suggest that he stay at Dream’s house, that would have been too much. George probably didn’t ask since he didn’t want to push too far. A face reveal and a visit, George should be happy. And he can hear it in George’s voice on his stream. In Sapnap’s stream a few days ago, George sounded so hesitant, not necessarily unhappy but not like how he sounds now. George is laughing more freely now, his voice is lighter. 

Dream closes his email and tabs over to George’s stream. Dream isn’t really sure what’s going on, he hasn’t been paying attention to the words that George has been saying. George is playing on the SMP with Quackity, another person Dream wouldn’t have thought he would have the chance to be friends with. And since it’s Quackity, of course George is all smiles and laughter. Dream really isn’t focusing on what they’re doing, he’s simply looking at George’s face. Thank God George streams with a facecam. He would be doing the world a disservice if he didn’t. George’s checks are slightly pink from laughing so much. Dream watches George turn his head, exposing his jawline. Dream traces the line there with his eyes, wondering what it would feel like to trace his fingers along it. What his pale skin would feel like on his hands. If it would be smooth, what the stubble would feel like. George looks back to the game and Dream tries to follows his eyes. Dream distantly hears Quackity make a joke. George’s head bows down for a second, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Then George looks back up slowly, raising one eyebrow and a slight smirk playing on his mouth. Dream’s entire body heats up, he subconsciously leans forward until he realizes what he’s doing. What it looks like. What he’s thinking. He scoots back from his desk like it electrified him. 

What. Is. Wrong. With. Him. 

Dream looks at the stream, almost scolding it. He rolls his chair back to his desk and closes out of the stream. That’s enough of that. 

It’s not like Dream has never thought that George is… aesthetically appealing. Dream has commented on it many times. But he was always _joking._ He was always playing a part, a part he is no longer allowed to play. He never actually thought about it, in reality. He never fantasized what it would be like to touch him. Jesus, what is _wrong_ with him. Dream recalls what Sapnap said to him early, until he shakes his head to get rid of those words. It has always been a bit, it’s never been real. It can’t be real. Dream shakes his head again, trying to force himself to change the subject. Food! He’ll make himself some food. 

Dream trudges down his stairs into his kitchen. He grabs a pot and starts to boil some water. He feels like he’s in a trance, putting the noodles in the water, heating up some sauce. Is he sick? Is that why these last few days he’s been so weird? Dream plates his food and eats it in silence, too strung up to even get something to drink. He reasons against checking any of his socials, deeming that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Dream slowly gets through his food, poking it at times. Dream rests his head against his hand. Was Sapnap right? That this was never a bit, but this was actually how Dream feels? That Dream was masking the fact that he wanted to hit on George by hitting on George. And then what does that imply? Dream glances off to the wall where Patches is cuddled up against the heater. He’s not that dense, he knows what that would imply. Or at least what it would look like from the outside. Dream hums to himself, knowing, at the very least, it’s not that. He would know if he liked hitting on George for _that_ reason. If he liked one of his longest friends he had, he would know. Maybe, instead, it meant that he just liked that dynamic. He liked flirting with George because it was funny, it wasn’t for the fans, but it was just a joke between them. He could accept that. He could accept that he liked to hit on George, and that he didn’t need anyone listening in when he did so, not that he’s ever hit on George in private. After dwelling on this fact until his pasta is cold, he quickly finishes up his food and cleans up, taking his time with that step as well. He goes on his phone and sees that George is done streaming. After thinking about it for a moment, he decides to text George again today. Before this weird phase between them, they texted multiple times a day to each other, especially if one of them missed the other’s stream. He reasons that they’re mostly cool now, so he’s allowed to do this. Dream types out his text and sends it before he can think against it. 

_“How was your stream?”_

Dream pours himself a glass of apple juice from his fridge before settling on his couch. He puts his feet up on the little coffee table he bought at a rummage sale years ago. By the time he checks his phone again, George has texted back. Dream figures they’ll text back and forth, judging by the fact that his message was almost immediately seen, so he decides not to tab away from their conversation on his phone. 

_“It was good, really funny. My face hurts from laughing.”_ A flash of George’s blushing face makes its way through Dream’s mind. Dream stiffens in his spot, before closing his eyes and dissolving the image. God, does he need to go to a doctor or something? Dream rapidly types out his response, trying to make up for lost time so that George isn’t wondering why it took so long to reply. 

_“Oh? Do I need to watch the vod?”_ Dream adds in some emojis to that. Sometimes he watches his friend’s vods, but usually he finds himself too busy. What he usually does is watch the stream highlights he finds on Youtube or Tik Tok. But if he really missed out today he could watch it in its entirety. Dream takes a sip from his apple juice. George is taking a little bit of time to respond to this one, but Dream supposes he took longer than necessary to respond to George’s message. Dream hums a little tune to himself while waiting. His phone dings, and he glances back to it. 

_“You don’t need to, I’m not sure if it was fun to watch but it was fun to be a part of.”_ Dream reads that twice. That… sounds odd. And not like George. It almost sounds like he’s beating himself up, which is dumb because Dream has always liked the content George makes. And George is usually very cocky towards his content. Dream leans his head on his hand. 

_“I’m sure that it was good, I was watching it in the beginning.”_ Dream sends off the text, not really sure if it was the right thing to say. George replies almost immediately after. 

_“Only the beginning?”_ Dream stares at his phone. How does he say he had to leave because he was having a crisis over George? Instead of coming up with an excuse, he just stays covered in vague responses.

 _“Yep.”_ It’s almost like walking through a trap, trying not to set it off. Dream has to be so careful and conscious of what he’s saying to not arouse suspicion from George, and also not to set himself off. 

_“Why? Did something happen?”_ That draws a small smile from Dream. Seeing George actually concerned for him is sweet, but also he completely doesn’t understand it. George’s concern is completely misplaced. Also, Dream is _definitely_ not telling George why he had to leave. 

_“Sure.”_ He’s a legend when it comes to one word responses, what can he say? 

_“Should I be worried?”_ ...Should he? Should _Dream_ be? This whole time he hasn’t understood why he feels so off. Should he be worried about that? Should Dream be worried about his friendship with George? He has been, but after today his worries and anxiety dropped drastically. It’s not like George coming to see him will fix everything, but it has gotten them to a level of their normal dynamic that Dream missed more than he cares to admit. It’s not fixed, of course, and should he be worried about that?

 _“Maybe.”_ Dream downs the rest of his apple juice and reaches over to set the glass on the table. He lets himself relax into the couch, letting his mind roll over some ideas. He should call Sapnap again, ask him what he meant yesterday on their phone call. He should ask George what he called Sapnap about. He should talk to George about why he actually asked Dream to stop flirting with him, and why George doesn’t seem to mind flirting with him. He should do many things, and he probably should be worried about it too. Right now, he’s just worried about this conversation. 

_“God, I can’t get a real answer from you.”_ Dream fires off a response right away, without really thinking. 

_“Just ask me.”_ His heart beat picks up. George should know they’re not talking about the stream anymore. Were they _ever_ talking about the stream? Dream watches the gray bubbles on their conversation attentively before they disappear. His hands start to sweat, his eyes glued to the screen. The bubbles reappear and then a text comes through. 

_“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”_ Dream’s brows furrow at that. 

_“What does that mean?”_ Dream gets into a proper sitting position, not letting his phone out of his sight. George takes his time to respond to this. After a few tense seconds, he sees a new text pop up. 

_“Figure it out. I got to go.”_ Dream’s face is official in a frown. He stops himself from texting back or even calling him, as tempting as it is. They were almost normal, and now this. Dream tosses his phone to the other side of the couch, and relaxes back into it. Figure it out, huh?

He’ll try his best, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one omg. As always, thanks for reading! I feel like after this is where the story really takes off. We needed to set up the problem and how everyone feels, but now we can go places. Also, I might add another chapter. I may have to split one chapter into two because there's a lot of stuff to cover it in. Also, after this fic is done I may do one from George's perspective and the aftermath of this fic. That's a long way out, but I am thinking about it. I'll try to get the next chapter out next week, but no promises. I'm still really busy. Thank you guys for the support on this, it means a lot.


	5. A Drunken Night

Dream is a weak man. 

He should have learned his lesson with watching George’s streams. He should have learned to just not watch them. Ever. Just don't give into temptation. At least until everything cools over, at least until he feels normal again. At least until there isn't this constant thought in his mind, screaming to study George's face. Over the next week, Dream finds himself craving George’s streams. Craving to see his face in real time, so he can see him smile. He blames it on the fact that he’s anticipating meeting George. That Dream is just too excited for the approaching date. George streams three times in that next week. The first one Dream, George, and Sapnap made a skyblock game. Dream had George’s stream pulled up while he played with them, and from time to time he would glance over to see George’s face. The second one George fooled around with Sapnap while Dream just gave commentary. Most of the stream Dream was unusually quiet, enough so that Sapnap made a soft jab at him. Dream made a conscious effort not to space out while looking at George’s stream, knowing how that would look, even if no one would know he was spacing out. Sometimes Sapnap would catch him off guard with a question and Dream would embarrass himself. Too lost in everything. Too lost in staring at George's wide smile. That happened one too many times, enough where he saw people talking about him spacing out on Tik Tok. He's gotten really good at ignoring how he felt. Or just labeling what he saw when he was staring at George’s face as observations. When George rolled his neck and Dream noticed how long and slender his neck was- That was just an observation. Something that anyone could make or see. When Dream noticed how cute it was when George’s eyes crinkled when he smiled- That’s completely normal. He let himself see it, and then let the observation pass over him. Over this past week, Sapnap has been weird towards both George and Dream. Dream has noticed that Sapnap doesn’t text him as often as he usually does. He’s noticed that with George as well, but at least Dream knows why George isn’t texting him. During George’s stream with just Sapnap, Sapnap would say weird things that would make George go completely silent. Out of context things that Dream didn’t know the meaning to. Their dynamic trio was off, and some of the fans were noticing. The fans noticed that Dream and George weren’t interacting with each other as much and that Sapnap was being a little hostile. As much as Dream tried to contain the situation, it spilled over into their content. A part of Dream hoped that when they made plans to meet each other, this would get a little better. But it seems to have gotten worse. Still, they’re still making content, still streaming, still trying to figure out what videos to make. Sapnap has been editing that one video they filmed a while ago for ages it seems. It’s almost normal, it’s almost at that level that Dream has been missing. 

The third time George streams this week, Dream is late for. George hadn't told him the stream was happening and he almost completely missed it. He was hanging out with his family, and by the time they left, he saw that George was live. He almost goes into the discord call, but when he figures out what’s going on he’s so glad he didn’t. He would have embarrassed himself so badly if he didn’t have time to process the situation playing out on screen. He also might have gotten himself cancelled for not handling the situation correctly. The situation playing out in front of him was very tricky. 

George is on the SMP with Sapnap. Nothing weird there. But George is laughing and giggling far too much to be normal. He’s slouching in his chair, his movements are slow. Sapnap is both egging him on as well as guiding him. Almost taking care of him. A slice of jealousy passes through Dream, until he tells himself just to observe the feeling and let it go. George’s face is flushed, more than Dream has ever seen it. He’s constantly smiling, constantly moving around in his chair. His speech is completely slurred and slow, but George is trying very hard to say coherent sentences. Dream’s mouth dries and his muscles tense. He grips his chair. 

George is drunk.

Or at least on his way to being drunk. 

Dream doesn’t really drink. And he knows that George doesn’t really drink. And Sapnap isn’t even old enough. Sure, he had a fun 21st birthday, or as fun as he could during a pandemic. And he knows that George has drank alcohol in the past, but Dream has never witnessed him drunk. And he wonders why the _fuck_ would he stream while he was drunk? Dream knows that George will regret this. George is very careful with what he shows on camera, enough so to not drink water on stream. Enough so that we will leave the frame entirely if he needs to laugh. Dream gets enough composure to hastily pull out his phone and fire off a text to Sapnap. 

_“Why is George drunk?”_

His eyes travel to the chat, seeing them either freak out or keep egging him on. A wave of disgust weaves its way through him. Somehow this doesn’t sit right with him. He looks back to George’s face, knowing that whenever George sobers up he’ll regret all of this. But he can’t stop himself from looking at the pretty pink shade taking over his face, he can’t stop himself from the warm feeling filling his chest at seeing how loose George is. It’s almost intoxicating, Dream feels less and less sober just watching George laugh at the stupidest things. He runs a hand over his face, slightly covering his eyes. Trying to look away from this trainwreck. He lets out a shaky breath when he hears his phone go off. 

_“We played a drinking game.”_

Dream frowns at this. There’s a lot of things wrong with that statement, one being Sapnap can’t drink. If Sapnap had alcohol while streaming, it could cause problems with Twitch. Dream dials Sapnap’s number immediately. Dream looks back at George, the guilt of observing George’s flush consumes him. He shakes his head to get rid of that sick feeling. He decides to look to the floor, completely ignoring what’s right in front of him. It takes Sapnap a few rings before he answers. 

“Dream, we’re streaming-”

“Put yourself on mute.” That comes out very harsh. There’s no humor in his voice at all. Sapnap doesn’t have a witty comeback to that. After a long pause, Sapnap excuses himself from George’s stream. Dream knows he’ll face repercussions for snapping at Sapnap, but right now he doesn’t care. He doesn’t let himself look at the chat. This is so wrong. He faintly hears George complaining about Sapnap leaving, slurring his words almost like he’s playing a caricature of a drunk person. Dream scoffs, that sick guilt building in his chest.

“Ok, I’m on mute.” Sapnap sounds completely sober, even serious. Hopefully Sapnap is sober, that would at least mean they’re not in _legal_ trouble. Dream takes a breath, trying to control his anger. _Why is he angry? Who is he angry at?_

“What happened.” He says deliberately, slowly. Filled with an unvoiced warning. 

“Ok.” Sapnap clears his throat. “Just, let me talk. This isn’t my fault.” Dream sighs. He looks back to George’s stream, where he’s running around aimlessly, messily. A wave of nausea hits him. “George and I were playing a drinking game off stream. I wasn’t drinking alcohol, and I didn’t think George was. We were watching Riverdale and every time something cringey happened we drank. I didn’t know he was drinking, or getting drunk. The next thing I knew, he was drunk. I didn’t think much of it until he started streaming. I got on the call with him to try to contain him, and also try to get him to stop streaming. That’s where we’re at now.” Dream processes this fast, while also trying to come up with a solution. The faster they can get George to stop streaming, the less footage there is of him being drunk. Something that he knows George wants. 

“Has he said anything or done anything really bad yet?” 

“No. He’s said some _questionable_ things, but no. The chat knows that he’s wasted, of course.” Dream hums at this. He mulls over the possibilities to get George to stop streaming. 

“How have you tried to get him to stop? How long has he been streaming?” Dream’s voice has lost most of its venom. He’s not as angry as he was, but the feeling of guilt still weighs heavily on him. Guilty for thinking the things he has, and he somehow feels responsible for this whole situation. Which doesn’t make any sense. Just add it to the list of feelings he doesn’t know why he’s feeling. 

“I’ve texted him, I put myself on mute and told him to stop. He won’t listen. It’s been an hour.” Dream takes a look at the viewer count. 124,000. God, this is a mess. “You can try though, he might listen to _you._ ” Sapnap sounds like he’s implying something here, but Dream chooses to ignore it. He straightens in his chair. He takes one more look at George. He’s slightly dancing in his chair, moving his head to an invisible rhythm. Something so cute that George definitely doesn’t want to be seen by 124,000 people. Or that Dream doesn't want to be seen by 124,000 people. 

“Ok. I’ll join the call.” Dream hangs up on Sapnap and puts his headset on. He doesn’t bother opening up Minecraft, he doesn’t want George to get the wrong idea. As soon as he joins the call, he hears George’s infectious laughter, a little brighter than usual. 

“Sapnap, you’ve come back to me!” Dream takes a shaky breath. He clears his throat, to which George makes a small confused noise. He watches George on stream look off to his other monitor. He watches an unnamed emotion travel across his face before George happily greets Dream. “Dream! I’ve missed you.” Even though his speech is compromised, he still puts in enough effort to make what he said sound suggestive. Dream ignores it, even if he can feel his heart rate increase. He knows it’s ridiculous to worry if his mic is picking up his heartbeat, but he worries nevertheless. He clears his throat again, preparing himself for whatever is about to happen.

“George. You’re drunk.” He keeps all emotion out of it. He needs to just get George out of here, to get him to stop streaming. He hopes Sapnap will stay quiet for a bit. George makes an over exaggerated hum. 

“I am.” George giggles, almost like he’s thinking that he just shared a secret. Almost like he doesn’t think it’s obvious. It also registers to Dream that he should be careful what he says since he is on stream. This is going to be hard to pull off, isn’t it? 

“Why would you want to be drunk on stream?” He ventures slowly. Maybe reminding him that he doesn’t want this is the way to go. He sees George tilt his head back and forth to that, like he’s mulling over the idea. After a second, he leans forward to the camera, impossibly close. Dream is starting to get that same intoxicated feeling he got when he first figured out what was happening. He tries to ignore it by closing his eyes for a second. 

“It’s a secret.” He whispers. Dream almost has the urge to chuckle at that. It’s undeniably cute to see George almost think that he’s whispering directly to Dream. George leans back in his chair, no longer paying any mind to the game that he’s supposed to be playing. Dream tries to direct the conversation back to where it needs to go.

“Ok. That’s ok. You don’t need to tell me.” His voice has gone soft, he realizes. There may have been a harsh edge when he started talking to George, but he couldn’t continue with it. George is too cute of a drunk. “When you’re not drunk, don’t you think you’ll regret this?” George pouts at this. 

“Yeah.” He crosses his arms, like a toddler. “But-” His face brightens up, “I knew that when I started drinking.” Dream considers this answer. He probably needs to be careful, it’s starting to sound like this was almost planned, that George is drunk because of something. Not just to have fun. It wasn’t an innocent accident on George’s part. That means that George is not only showing something on camera he wouldn’t normally do, but also he has the chance to say something bad. In the distance he hears Sapnap swear under his breath. Maybe he just came to the same conclusion that Dream has, or maybe Sapnap knows something that Dream doesn’t. There must be more to Sapnap’s story. It doesn’t exactly matter right now. 

“Ok.” Dream tries to figure out what to do. “Ok, can you stop streaming for me? We can talk about it, if you want.” 

“I like your voice like this. It’s like you’re babying me. It’s like you’re taking care of me” Dream can’t resist. He’s been trying so hard not to be affected by witnessing George like this, but this is too much. He bites the line that George fed him. 

“You like that?” He’s ashamed of how breathless he sounds. George is staring at the floor, looking as ashamed as Dream feels. This is wrong. 

“Yeah.” it’s the immediate response. Dream sighs. 

“That’s ok.” He can’t dwell on it, he needs to get George to stop streaming. It’s becoming more urgent, not only to stop George from saying something stupid, but also to stop Dream from the same fate. “You can tell me more off stream. We could watch a movie, if you want. What were you doing-”

“I just like your voice in general.” Dream sputters at that. His soul leaves his body. That sounded so real and meaningful. George is looking only at the floor, his breathing slowed. Dream watches George's chest rise and fall, almost entranced by the simple movement, entranced by the simple words. Before he could even come up with a response, Sapnap cuts in. Dream has never been more grateful for Sapnap, he had no idea what he was going to say to that. 

“George, please.” Sapnap sounds very worried, and his words are loaded. Dream furrows his brows, not exactly understanding anything at the moment. “Stop.” George looks up at this. 

“Why?” He sulks. “It doesn’t matter. Dream doesn’t-” 

“Stop.” Sapnap cuts him off forcefully, George returns to his original pout. Sapnap didn’t sound this worried before, but now he’s stern. Dream finds his voice again. 

“Please, George. Stop streaming.” Dream decides to look at the chat. Most people seem to be uncomfortable. _Good,_ he thinks. _This is so wrong._ “We can keep talking. You can keep hearing my voice, just stop streaming.” George is still pouting in his chair, so Dream decides to give an incentive. “I’ll leave the call if you don’t stop streaming.” George perks up at this, and Dream starts to have hope that this will go over well. That this will have a happy ending. A little more sternly, he adds. “You got ten seconds.” Dream starts to count down, and he can see the panic in George’s eyes start to form. George frantically closes his stream, not giving the chat time to even react before it’s all over. Dream only gets to the number 6. Dream sighs a sigh of relief, distantly he hears Sapnap doing the same thing. He leans back in his chair. He tries to ignore that fact that George just stopped to keep hearing his voice. He supposes he should make good on his promise. He’s also worried if he doesn’t, George will just start up another stream. 

“Are you still here, George?” He pulls out his phone and sends off a text to Sapnap, telling him that they’ll talk alone later tonight about what just happened. Sapnap responds immediately, saying that would be best. He sees that Sapnap left the call, leaving him and George alone. Confusion goes through him at that, at how rapid Sapnap just dipped, but Dream shakes his head. He still has to deal with George. Dream prompts George again. “George?” There’s a small hum from the other line, but still nothing. “C’mon, tell me how you’re feeling.” 

“I feel dizzy.” George sounds ten times more drunk than he did before. Was he really putting up this good of a front for the stream? That’s almost impressive. It would have been impressive if it didn’t deal Dream a lot of stress. 

“Yeah, I would assume playing Minecraft drunk wouldn’t be fun.” His voice is getting softer by the second, to the point where he’s not sure how well George can even hear him. George hums at this, still not very responsive. “If you want to talk to me, you have to say something.” George groans at this. 

“I just want to listen to you.” Dream threads a hand through his hair, the honest confession confusing him as well as warming his heart. 

“What do you mean?” He chokes out.

“Tell me a story.” George slurs out, sounding tired. Dream takes this in. A story. Ok. He could do that. He’ll examine everything that just happened later, after he’s dealt with this. When George asks him so nicely, so sleepy, so cutely, what can he do? Say no? Risk upsetting George? He sighs, and thinks to himself. What’s a story that he could even tell? 

“Have I ever told you about the time I joined an orchestra for a week?” George makes a noise that resembles a ‘no,’ so Dream continues. “Yeah, I was like… 15? I was a sophomore, I think, in high school. Anyway, a lot of my friends were in music and stuff, you know. A few in the school orchestra and the band. A lot were in choir. I was like, the token non-music friend that they all had.” Dream leans back in his chair, letting the memories take over him. “They thought it would be funny to sign me up for the orchestra. And since you didn’t need to like, audition for it, I got in. I think they said I played the cello?”

“That suits you.” George interrupts, mumbling a little. His voice sounds dopey, like it’s laced with a permanent sleepy smile. Dream feels the corners of his mouth tug upwards.

“You think?” George lets out a sigh at this, and Dream hears him shifting around. Finally George let’s out a “mmhmm” sound. Dream takes a sharp inhale, before telling himself just to _observe._ He continues after regaining his composure. “Well, my friends agreed with you. I got an email a few days later telling me that the next practice was in a few days. I flipped out. Tried to tell them that this was a mistake, but they had all my information and everything. Finally, one of my friends in the orchestra texted me and told me what happened. I laughed and ended up going to the practices for like a week until I dropped. I did learn how to play hot cross buns on the cello though. Apparently I was a fast learner and the instructor suggested that I should keep going, get, like, a private teacher or something. I didn’t want to though, so, I declined.” Dream lets out a soft laugh, careful not to be too loud. The mood that they created seemed to be… vulnerable. Something that a loud noise could break. “Those rehearsals were so fun but also stressful. I didn’t know what I was doing, obviously, and my friends would just laugh. I also kind of broke a bow, you know those things that you use to play a cello? I snapped mine in two. Cost me, like, two hundred dollars.” Dream gives another small laugh at this, remembering how mad his mother was at him, for not only breaking the bow but also being in orchestra in the first place. “Good thing the teacher had a good sense of humor. Apparently I was a joke for the next two years after that in that class.” Dream manages a smile at the memory. He decides to stop the story there. There are plenty of stories like that from his past, but they’re hard to think of on the spot. They fall into silence, but at least on Dream's side it's comfortable. He listens over the line, hearing George’s muffled breathing. It’s soft, slow, and comforting. Dream listens for a few seconds before he deems that any longer would be seen as creepy. He thinks about how much of a shame it is that he can’t see George sleeping before he smothers the thought. He shakes his head lightly, returning to the present. “Goodnight, George.” He whispers, and then hangs up. He then sends off a quick text to George explaining what happened and telling him to drink some water when he gets up. Dream lets go of a breath that he didn’t know he had been holding, a lot of stress leaving his body in waves. Dream looks up at the ceiling, letting what just happened in the last 20 minutes hit him. Deciding to get this headache over with, he calls Sapnap, who picks up rather quickly. 

“Did… Did he say something… um..” Sapnap stutters out, sounding completely out of his element. Dream frowns at this. He already can feel a pounding at his temples, he doesn’t need more riddles right now. He needs a cold shower and to sleep for 4 days. Not whatever this _is._

“What would he say?” Dream deadpans. “He just asked me to tell him a story.” Sapnap hums at this. And then gives a slight laugh. 

“Ok.” He rushes out, a sigh follows it. Dream rubs his temples. What is going on with his friends? “Ok. Cool. So. That happened.” 

“It did.” Dream is too tired to give more detailed responses. He can feel the pain in his temples spread to the rest of his head. Why is he getting a headache? Isn’t that supposed to be George in a few hours? Sapnap clears his throat. 

“Can we promise to never drink on stream? That was too stressful. Also, I wouldn’t check twitter for a while.” Dream gives a breathy chuckle to that. 

“It feels like I haven’t been on Twitter in years. All I do is avoid it.” Dream sighs and gets up to get some ibuprofen. At this rate he’ll need to get a new jar of the stuff. He puts his phone between his cheek and his shoulder while he opens the jar, taking the pills dry. Then deciding to splash water on his face to get rid of whatever heat is still there from talking to George that... intimately. 

“Yeah, Twitter’s losing their shit right now. So, George is ok?” 

“I think he’s asleep.” A moment of silence passes them before Sapnap laughs at that. It’s a hearty laugh that makes Dream think that something just broke within Sapnap. Dream doesn’t even manage a smile, his head being too clouded with pain, as well as Dream doesn’t find what he just said to be funny. He turns off the water and leans on the counter. 

“You told him a bedtime story? That is the cutest shit I’ve heard in a long time.” Sapnap manages to say in between laughing. Dream rolls his eyes, trying to will the ibuprofen to work faster. 

“Yeah, yeah. Look. I’m tired. It’s been a long day. I visited my family and then I had to deal with whatever the fuck just happened. I’m not exactly up for your teasing.”

“Aw, is pissbaby tired? Well, I’m tired too. I’m tired of being in the middle of everything! You have no idea how tired I am of your shit, and George’s shit. You think this was stressful for you? Try being in my position.” Sapnap loses his laughter, sounding genuinely annoyed. _This_ conversation again. Dream sighs, trying not to bite at Sapnap’s line, but still finding his annoyance spiking, as well as confusion. 

“I’m going to bed. I’ll deal with your riddles tomorrow. You can deal with Twitter, bye.” Dream hangs up, knowing that Sapnap will probably have an issue with the tone that Dream just had, but Dream not finding it within himself to care. Dream stalks back to his bedroom and flops on his bed. Too tired to get into bed properly, too confused as well. He knows he probably shouldn’t dwell on every detail that just happened, especially with a pounding headache going on. But he can’t shake how weird not only George being drunk was, but Sapnap’s reaction as a whole was. He groans into his mattress. Is it something worth looking into right now? Can’t he just dwell on that in the morning? He can go back and watch the stream if he needs to. He glances over to the sloth themed calendar hanging on his wall. In a big red cliche circle is the date that George is coming over, in two weeks. Dream turns his head back and smashes it into the mattress. Dream reasons that he can deal with it all in the morning, and the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the cute way George laughs when he’s unhinged. Dream falls asleep with a smile playing on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter look at me go. I'm honestly surprised I got this up in time. I usually get these chapters done a week ahead of time, but this one took almost all of finals week and all this week. I also had to move out this week... But I did it! That also means I'm behind on the next chapter lol. Thanks for reading, as always. I kind of organized this story into 4 parts. So I feel like chapters 1-4 is part 1, so now we're in part two, which is chapters 5-8. So! I'm excited to keep this story going! We're getting into the parts that I am really excited to write. (I do want to say that I think the next chapter will be pretty short. Shorter than usual. It just worked out that way with the story.) Thanks!!! Happy Holidays!!


	6. A Moment of Clarity

Over the past two weeks, ever since they made a plan to meet each other, Dream almost feels like time is playing a prank on him. The two weeks have passed so effortlessly but also like they’ve been dragging their feet. Dream could spend hours just watching the clock move, he could physically feel himself becoming brain dead. At the same time, however, George is coming only in one week. It’s gone by in the snap of his fingers. One more week of waiting. Just one week. A week from today. _7 days._ Every time Dream actually stops and sees how close this meeting is his hands start sweating. He thinks about the time he wasted just staring at his phone, or literally staring at the clock. He could have spent that time preparing himself. He should have said to meet later, like in a month or two. This is far too soon. And what made all this come up, made him really realize that holy shit this is happening, is that George just announced it on Twitter. 

They had a brief conversation after they bought the plane tickets that George should announce it about a week before it happens. Dream kind of forgot about that part of the conversation, and when he saw George’s tweet of, _“Guess who I get to see in a week?”_ with himself tagged in it, it all hit at once. That this was happening. That Dream would get to meet George, that George would know what he looks like, where he lives, what his life is like, everything. Dream wasn't too worried about a face reveal until now. Now, it terrifies him. People on Twitter were both going crazy and skeptical. Many people thought they were faking it, given past events, but then George posted a picture of his plane ticket, of course with everything blurred out. Then everyone knew this was actually happening. Dream didn’t really know the etiquette to this sort of thing, so he just replied to George’s thread with a smiley face. They all decided not to stream or be on social media today, given that everyone would only want to talk about one thing. And Dream didn’t know if he could manage millions of questions about it right now, given the millions of questions running in his own head. 

Another good thing about this announcement is that it made most people forget the fiasco that happened last week with George’s drunk stream. Sapnap dealt with it publically on Twitter, making vague comments and poking fun at George while still saying that they didn’t want any clips going around. Dream, staying in character as well as not knowing what to say on the subject, stayed silent on Twitter. Sapnap seems to know more about the drunk stream than Dream ever will, so Dream just let it be. The vod stayed up for about 12 hours, until presumably George sobered up and deleted it. Of course, that gave plenty of time for people to get the footage they needed and make highlights, against their wishes. Dream eventually did go to Twitter to request that people don’t make highlights out of deleted streams or videos, since they’re deleted for a reason. Still, there is enough evidence out there that proves that the stream happened. Both George and Sapnap have barely talked to Dream about the stream, other than when it was unfolding and immediately after. George texted Dream to apologize the day after everything, but other than that George didn’t explain it. George just seemed to want everyone to stop talking about it. George never mentioned their phone call after either. Dream wonders if George even remembers the story that he told him, and a small part of him stings at the thought that he doesn't remember. The whole incident was headache-inducing, one of the most confusing parts was the part that Sapnap played. Sapnap knows a lot more than what he’s letting on to, especially when it comes to George. Ever since the stream, they both have been acting off, not exactly being as open as they usually were with Dream. 

Dream continues to stare at the tweet that confirms everything, that made everything feel so sudden. So real. He watches the replies build and build, he watches people freak out, they voice his inner monologue. It’s only slightly unsettling that he hasn’t talked to George in almost a week, and hasn’t talked to Sapnap in a few days. This whole situation has spiraled in a way that Dream can barely keep track of. He can’t keep track of conversations, time, or even his own feelings. They’re all tangled up in a web of confusion and half truths. He runs a hand through his hair, reminding himself of the physical world. 

Besides the big news of George coming to Florida, Sapnap finally managed to publish their End video, two and a half weeks later. Dream supposes he can’t make fun of Sapnap too much, but still. It took a while to edit, but he knows that they've all been dealing with a lot recently. It came out decent, given that they couldn’t even finish the challenge. It feels like centuries have gone by between filming that video and now. Both so much has happened and barely anything. Between the new video and the announcement of George’s visit, the fans seem to have mostly forgotten the weird tension between the three of them. They’re too distracted with the new developments. With Dream’s life in perspective, as well as not having the distraction of streaming, this day feels like a fever dream. He goes on Tik Tok only to find dozens of videos analyzing the announcement and his simple response to it. A few people haven’t forgotten the past two weeks of them barely being able to be in the same call with each other and that things have gotten so weird between the three of them. It’s good to know his fans don’t miss a thing. Dream thinks back to streams and calls. There seems to always be something on the tip of someone’s tongue, usually Sapnap’s. He seems to hint at things that don’t make sense, and that are targeted at George. People on Tik Tok have noticed this as well, giving Dream a shot of anxiety as well as reassurance that he isn’t projecting onto Sapnap. There’s a large piece of himself that worries that this upcoming trip will be ruined by whatever has happened to them recently. That it’ll be too awkward to bear. Dream hasn’t even managed to get the balls to talk to George about the whole flirting thing, and that probably has to happen before the trip. 

Besides worrying about everything that’s going wrong in his life, he starts preparing for George’s arrival. He cleans his house, which wasn’t too hard since he tries to stay decently clean. He tries to come up with a few things that he wants to show George when he gets here, like restaurants or parks. He decides he’ll stream when George is physically in the room, thinking that it would probably be funny. George could stream with Dream’s setup, if he so wished. In all honesty, Dream tries not to plan too much in the few days that George will be here. Knowing that if he packs full these few days they have together it won’t be as fun. He wants to be spontaneous if nothing else. He’ll have a few things to do, but he also figures they’ll just bum around his house for the most part. 

Dream sits down at his counter, scrolling through Tik Toks about people trying to analyze everything about his friendships. He knows the fans mean well, but it’s a little off putting to see all his biggest worries being voiced by people that don’t even know half of the story. Dream sighs. It’s getting more difficult to label everything he’s feeling as observations. Especially his worry over this subject. He knows it’s irrational, and the fact that he knows it is but it still worries him worries him even more. He’s a pretty logical guy when it comes to his feelings, he likes to attack these kinds of things with a set plan. He can’t plan around his worry and anxiety. He should probably talk to someone about it, if it gets any worse. Just then, almost as if it were fate, a text from Sapnap shakes his phone. 

_“Hey, can I talk to you”_

It feels like everything bad that has happened in the past few weeks that has made him a mess has started from these words. This is why he hates phone calls. Dream leans on the counter and texts back that he’s free now. He waits for the call to take over his phone, and when it does he simply presses accept. He’s lost faith in preparing himself for phone calls anymore. It hasn’t worked in the past so why keep doing it? The definition of insanity and all. Something heavy settles within himself. It feels like something is on the tip of his tongue, that feeling of electricity in the air. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey. So, how are you?” Is Sapnap a mind reader? Does the guy read Tarot cards or something? How does he know that something is wrong? Dream sighs. The impulse to lie through his teeth is strong, but where has that gotten him in the past few weeks? And, even if he did lie, Sapnap has somehow seen through every lie Dream has told recently, even before Dream knows it’s a lie. The guilt over something he hasn’t figured out yet, the worry over if this weird phase will kill a friendship, it all has taken its toll on Dream. The last thing he wants to do next is to keep lying. How much of these last few weeks have been lies? And lies to who? Has he been lying to himself? 

“Honestly? Exhausted. Worried. Tired. Afraid. You name it. Why did you call?” Hopefully Sapnap doesn't asked why he's feeling these things, Dream wouldn't have an answer. There’s a pause over the line, Dream takes the chance to grab himself a glass and start filling it up with water. 

“I called to talk about what’s happening next week.” There’s a stiffness in Sapnap’s voice. They’ve grown awkward around each other. Dream knows this, as well as the fans. Dream watches the water level rise in the glass, somehow feeling anxious about just that. Will he let it spill? Will he stop the water in time? “But, I think I need to talk to you about something else.” The water level is getting close to the top now. The hollow feeling of anxiety or anticipation creeps into him. Dream feels something crack within himself. “Look, whatever’s going on with you, the fans have noticed.” Just a few more seconds and it’ll spill. What happens if it spills? “And I noticed a while ago. Please, talk to me.” The glass is so heavy. “Talk to me about how you feel about George.” 

It spills. 

Dream feels the cold water wash over his hand. He watches it emotionlessly as droplets go to the ground. Something crashes within him. _How he feels about George._

It was never a joke. 

It was never just observations. 

“I’m an idiot, Sapnap.” He stops the water and stares at the puddle by his feet. 

Was he the last to know? Or has he always known? The joking-no, the _flirting._ It was a way to hit on George safely. In a way he wouldn’t get rejected. Who knows if it started like a joke, or if Dream always had an ulterior motive for joking about it. Maybe when he saw George blush at Dream’s jokes is when it turned into something different. Everything was fine. Dream could do this at a safe distance, at enough of a distance that he didn’t even know what was happening himself. Then George told him to stop. And then Dream had such an awful reaction to it. And then he had to reflect why he had such a reaction like that. Why would stopping make him feel guilty? Worried? Anxious? If it was just a joke, then it wouldn’t. But it was never just a joke. It wasn’t worry for their friendship, it was worry that he blew his last shot. His last place to safely express his feelings. 

God, his _feelings._

Did he blow it? What did he want? He’s talking about his best friend here. A friendship that means the world to him. Not only that, but they’re both public figures. What would happen if something _did_ happen between them? Could something happen between them? Does Dream want something to happen between them? Flashes of a slender pale neck, dopey smiles, and lidded eyes assault Dream. Yes, Dream wants something to happen between them. Fuck, he wants something to _happen between them-_

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Sapnap ventures hesitantly. Right, the call. He’s on the phone, standing in his kitchen looking at a puddle of water on the floor. He reminds himself to breathe. He puts the full glass of water on his counter, spilling a little more due to the shaking of his hand. The cold water runs down his wrist. 

“Fuck.” Dream crumbles to the ground. Distantly he wonders how long it’s been since he cleaned the floor of his kitchen. He dips a finger into the puddle. His head both feels more clear and more clouded than ever. It’s hard to breathe but his breaths are more clean and crisp now. Everything is harder but also more _fresh._

It was never a joke. It was how he went about flirting with George. And now it’s gone. George basically rejected him. Did George know? Did George figure it out before Dream even could? Is that why? That’s why George made up some bullshit reason to stop? God, he’s an idiot. A wave of nausea floats it’s way slowly through his body. If that’s true, then he never really had a chance. Did he ever have a chance to begin with? He smiles bitterly. Probably not. His face heats up. Distantly he feels the pricks of emotions start up near his eyes. 

“You ok, dude?” Dream chuckles at that. He swirls his finger in the water. 

“No. I’m such an idiot.” Sapnap sighs. Something gives in his tone. They've been so on edge the past few conversations, but something has finally been cut between them. The hostility is gone. 

“Care to elaborate?”

“I’ve liked him all this time.” No hesitation. Once he says it every unplaced feeling he’s had makes sense. Every reaction makes sense, every observation is clear. It all clicks into place for him. He’s liked George, he’s had a fucking crush on him, like he was in middle school again. It all makes sense, and leaves him feeling utterly shitty. He’s figured it out, and finally pieced together that he’s been rejected as well. He’s been rejected without even knowing it. 

“You’ve figured it out, huh?” There’s a smile in his voice. Dream closes his eyes, trying to focus on the water on his finger. He can’t find it within him to smile. He can’t even find it within him to be annoyed that Sapnap figured it out before he did. “Ok, well. Good. Took you long enough. Only one week before he gets there.” Dreams eyes shoot open. 

Shit. 

He forgot that he’ll literally see George in a week. He’ll be spending a lot of time with George in a week. How could he forget that? Fuck, he has to spend days with the guy he likes who also rejected him without him even noticing that he got rejected. _What is he going to do?_

“Fuck.” He mutters. Sapnap laughs at this. 

“It’s not that bad. Honestly, I’m a little upset myself. Why did it have to be George? Why couldn’t you have picked me? Maybe you have a thing for British people.” Sapnap laughs at his own joke. The only thing racing through Dream’s mind is that George is coming here in a week. _What am I going to do?_ “This actually gets into what I wanted to talk to you about. Do you want me there next week? I know we agreed to do it where George came and saw you and then saw me, but there’s still time to change it.” His voice softens, clearly going into a new serious topic, but Dream isn’t over the last topic.

“Wait. I just said I liked my best friend, which could ruin so much for us. And you just… changed the subject?” There’s a pause. 

“Look. I think it’ll be fine. You got me worried for a little bit there, for a second I thought I was wrong, that you actually didn’t like him. But-”

“What? How is this better than me not liking him?” Dream thinks back to the awkwardness whenever him and George had to be alone in a conversation. Looking at it with the lens of George rejecting Dream, it gets to be unbearable. A hot sting of emotions pricks his eyes. He frowns at how dry his throat is getting. How hard it is to continue to talk. 

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.” Sapnap pauses, then continues. “You can talk to me about it. And who knows, maybe he likes you-”

“He literally told me to stop flirting with him.” His voice is raw and filled with emotion. “He rejected me without me knowing that he rejected me. I’m a goddamn idiot.” So what now? Get over this crush fast and hope that it doesn’t ruin as much as it already has? Hope that no one figures it out? Hope that George never brings it up? Hope that he’s able to function next week? A tear escapes, making him sneer in disgust at himself. How stupid could he be? George wasn’t asking him to stop flirting with him, he fucking rejected Dream. And Dream took it the wrong way completely. George was trying to be nice about the whole thing, and Dream was being an idiot. He swiftly wipes the lone tear away, trying to ignore its presence altogether. Sapnap clears his throat. 

“Ok. I see where you’re going with this. There may be another reason why George asked you to do that. To be honest, when I learned that he asked you that I was really surprised.” Dream takes in a rough breath, trying to calm himself down. “Look. I’ve talked to George a lot lately, and if that was something that happened, if that was the reason that he did that, don’t you think he would have talked to me about it?” Dream pauses at this, and then shakes his head. 

“He probably just didn’t want to embarrass me.” Dream refuses to give into this false hope. There’s no point. Dream could read the room. 

“Clay, I am telling you that is not the reason why George did that.” Sapnap’s voice gets dark and serious. Dream frowns, but before voicing his confusion Sapnap continues. “Look, that’s all I can say. I can’t say any more. Just, think about George’s words and actions. Think about if they make sense if you think he rejected you. You also need to talk to George about it. But look, do you want me to come over next week? I could quickly get a hotel and we could do some stuff. All three of us. Do you think I should? I could regulate some stuff between you and George.” Dream sighs. He knows he’s not getting anything else out of Sapnap, he can be good at keeping secrets when he wants to be. He's just hinting at more things he doesn't understand. Dream stands up and takes a drink of his water, enjoying how it feels on his raw throat. Dream thinks about the proposition before him before coming up with his response. 

“No, don’t do that. I think this is something I just need to do alone.” Plus, he wasn’t even the one who wanted it this way. George was. George said he couldn’t handle both of them at the same time. He hears Sapnap make a grunt over the line at that. 

“Really? I mean, think about it. It’s fine if you change your mind in the next few days.” Dream hums at that. “Ok, well. I think I’m going to get going. It was a good talk. Text me if you need anything. It'll work out, I hope.” Dream looks back down at the little puddle of water, watching the light reflecting off of it. 

“Ok. Thanks.” Dream pulls the phone away and hangs up. He drinks the rest of the water. 

_Think about George’s actions._ Is there even a point? Is Sapnap just trying to be nice to him? Why was his reaction so… relaxed? This could ruin everything for them if they’re not careful, and Sapnap just said he already knew and made a joke about it. Dream leans on his counter and shakes his head. He should ignore Sapnap for now. 

Right now, he needs to figure out what the hell he’s going to do in a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok. Thanks for reading! Happy New Year as well! I don't know why I scheduled for updates to be on holidays but whatever. I might miss next week, I really want to spend a lot of time on the next two chapters. I also want time to go back and fix some stuff. But yeah, we're over half way done! Thanks for the support!!!


	7. The Calm Before the Storm?

Dream feels like there must be grooves in the floor from how much he has been pacing. He walks from one end of his room to the other. Sometimes he manages to pace the whole length of his house. This whole past week has been him pacing in his room and nervously watching the days pass him by. He’s had to talk to George a lot more recently to work out any kinks in their plan, and every time he’s had to do it feels like he’s about to have a stroke. He can’t talk on the phone with George, knowing that he won’t be able to hide how shaken he is in his voice. Texting is much safer, texting he can at least act like nothing has happened. The black letters give nothing away to his inner turmoil. He just makes up excuses for why he can’t talk on the phone, which he fears George is starting to catch on to the fact that they're _excuses._ Still, they haven’t even texted in the past few days. Sapnap has been a blessing, surprisingly. Though Sapnap is as vague and confusing as ever, it’s nice to have someone that at least somewhat understands the situation to talk to. It’s like the few weeks of hostility between them never happened. It’s almost like Sapnap respects that Dream finally figured out how he feels, so now he’s willing to help him with it. Though Sapnap isn't as worried as he should be, given the stakes.

Dream is able to distance himself from his emotions, or at the very least he tries. He can cope with his feelings, knowing that it’s something he can get over. He's done it before. He just desperately hopes that it won’t ruin more things than it already has. He thinks of the awkwardness in streams, the fact that they haven’t filmed a video in three weeks, it’s all a byproduct of this situation. He’s voiced his concerns with Sapnap about the lack of content that they’re filming, the memory flooding over him. He was pacing in his kitchen this time, clutching his phone to his ear in a manic grip. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t worry about that.” Sapnap’s voice was slightly fuzzy through the phone. “Most people think we’re preparing for the visit, which they’re not wrong. Just focus on yourself, not what you think people want you to do.” 

Sapnap was actually good at giving advice when he wasn’t giving out riddles or vague answers. The only problem is that it’s hard to ignore the millions of eyes on him. It’s hard to ignore the countless Tik Tok audios that haunt his dreams at night. It’s hard to ignore the countless hot takes that his fans have about his friendships. He hasn’t gone on Twitter in three days, Tik Tok in five. And he knows people have noticed. Sapnap won’t tell him directly that people are talking about his disappearance, but he’s hinted at it enough. He tells Dream not to go on any social media, which he already was doing. 

He also hasn’t been sleeping at all. Too restless and too much in his own head to give in to the sweet escape of sleep. He finds a little bit of irony in it, given his name. He lies awake, staring at the darkened shadows in his room with conversations playing in his head. He imagines how certain conversations would have gone if he had known about his feelings. How would he have played this? He thinks back to the phone call that spiraled into where he is now. How would have reacted if he had known? Come clean? Apologize? He supposes he would have been more distraught instead of confused and clouded. Then again, he’s distraught now. Now he’s staring up at his ceiling, feeling like his eyes are on fire, and regretting every move he’s made. All he did was prolong it. 

If Dream had a recording of every interaction between George and himself, he would have analyzed it during these days. When did he start liking George? When did George find out? Did… did he ever have a chance? Is it bad to have hope? During these late nights when he is physically too tired but his mind is wired, he gives into hope. He gives into the perfect scenario, that George comes here and he sweeps him off of his feet. Into his bed. He lets himself imagine different ways, in a perfect world, where everything plays in his favor. He takes George to dinner, fancy wine, he drives George back to the hotel, George invites Dream to stay… Or they watch a movie on his couch, George falls asleep on Dream, George wakes up and gives a sleepy confession. They ignore the movie after that. He lets the complete falsehoods play in his head in the early hours of the morning, where no one will know that he’s thinking about it. Anything he can do to justify it. 

This cycle of not sleeping and then crashing the next day fills his week until it’s the day before George arrives. 

Dream thinks back to Sapnap’s advice of preparing himself, and he wonders if he has done any of that, or just made himself more of a mess. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week, which is a true statement. The colorful bags under his eyes, the redness around them. His posture is lacking. He looks just as he feels. 

The only thing that he’s proud of is that he’s escaped all things George in this week. They haven’t talked, except to work out the plan strictly through text. Dream hasn’t gone on George’s streams, he hasn’t seen a video or picture of George in days. He did this on purpose, of course, knowing what it would do to him. He has already set his goal in getting over his feelings, he doesn’t need them to grow. And seeing a video or a picture of George... All it would do is throw him in the deep, mushy pit once more. This is against Sapnap’s advice, at least the talking to George part. Sapnap is still very adamant in Dream talking to George about… about how he feels. Dream reasoned that he didn’t even understand his feelings that well, and telling George may not only be the complete wrong move but may also ruin everything. Sapnap then suggests just talking about the not flirting things, but that would just lead into the word vomit of Dream’s completely pathetic crush. Then Sapnap suggests to at least talk to George about the trip.

“Fine. Be a baby about it. Just don’t ignore George. You’re literally meeting the guy soon, don’t fucking ghost him.” And then Dream ghosted George. Not that George has been texting Dream at all in the past few days. The last three days have been radio silence. 

Which is weird, but Dream isn’t complaining. It means he doesn’t have to feel too bad that he hasn’t been talking to George. It pulls a small amount of guilt off of his shoulders and replaces that guilt with worry.

But here we are, a day away from the fated meeting. Everything is prepared, physically at least. Mentally, Dream is a pile of mush. As he deals and processes the last month of his life, he decides to take a walk. He’s not much of an outdoorsy person, obviously, he plays Minecraft for a living, yet the cool winter air may do him some good. Maybe there’s some truth in the saying of clearing your head. Getting a breath of fresh air. Something. Anything to escape his mind. At this point he’d do anything to escape his house where he’s made indents in the floor from all his pacing. 

Dream grabs a light jacket before walking out of his front door. A whip of cool breeze greets his face before he pulls on his mask. Looking around his deserted-like neighborhood, he decides to head to the coast. He probably won’t make it to the beach, he lives five miles away from it, but still he decides to walk in that direction. The wind graces his hands, making them prickle in the cold. He could put his hands in his pockets, but some weird part of him enjoys the small amount of pain. It reminds him that he’s real. He isn’t just a voice or someone in a call. He isn't just someone on a screen. He’s real and here. He slows his pace slightly, just enough to where he could label it as a stroll. He lets the wind push against his chest and face, letting it coldly caresses his hands. He keeps walking, almost feeling like he’s on autopilot. Letting his legs carry him to a well known path. A familiar, nostalgic path. Though he recently got a house, he’s still living in the same area where he grew up. It’s calming, though one name still calls to him in the back of his mind. 

_George._ How long have they known each other? Years. They almost grew up with each other, it feels like they have. Besides realizing his feelings for the man, this is still an important week for them. They’ve never met, George doesn’t even know what Dream even looks like. A small jolt of anxiety travels through him. Will… will George like what Dream looks like? Dream shakes his head, trying to fend off hope. Dream shouldn’t think that way. George won’t care, they’re just friends. George is probably curious, of course, but it’s not like Dream needs to worry about being attractive to George. A bitter taste takes over in his mouth. George won’t be affected by how Dream looks, but Dream already knows he’s affected by George, over a screen. How will he deal with the real thing? How will he deal with knowing he could reach out and touch George at _any second._ He hates what this trip is becoming. Sure, it was a spontaneous decision, but it was supposed to be fun. He was going to meet his best friend, he was going to have fun. Now, he’s worried about everything that could go wrong. How much is on the line. Everything that he has to be so utterly conscious of. He lets out a deep breath, finally deciding to put his hands in his pockets. 

It’s been a few days since he’s talked to George. Though Dream has a perfectly sound reason not to, he doesn’t want to fuck up even more, part of him feels like he’s doing exactly that by not talking to him. Ignoring George probably isn't helping the situation at all. Sapnap has a point, he’s needed to talk to him for a while now. He needed to do it when they made the plan to meet each other, and he’s been meaning to do it ever since. Dream slows his pace even more. Maybe… Maybe he should? His hand brushes with his phone in his pocket. He could right now. Just to hear his voice, just to see if he’s fucking up or not. Just to see if everything is still ok. Just to see if George has noticed if anything is wrong. Dream is selfish, but still he needs to check up on his friend. Dream traces the edges of his phone with his hand. Is that the right move? It feels like his life is dictated by phone calls recently. If he could take out that fated phone call with George about a month ago, would he? It’s what made him realize his feelings. Would he rather live in ignorance or in reality? He supposes he isn’t ready to answer that question. Would this phone call answer that question? He takes his phone out and quickly pulls out George’s contact. Before he loses his nerve, he presses the dial. It rings. With each ring he wonders if this was a good idea. Does he want to know if they’re ok? Does he want to know that answer? If he hangs up right now, what will George do about seeing a missed call? Should he even bring up-

“Hello, Dream.” George’s voice greets him. He sounds formal, slightly on edge. Dream swallows whatever doubts he had. He’s here now, he has to know. But just how does he go about this? Could he just back out? Maybe just pretend that this is a completely normal check up. 

“Hey, how are you?” Normal start. It’s like he’s playing chess. Setting up the perfect defense, trading pieces, trying to checkmate George. Or at least do it in a sneaky way. Pretending that he isn’t setting something up, pretending that this is normal. A gust of wind sweeps over his hand which is holding the phone to his ear. He wonders if he should have brought gloves. The small needle pricks of the cold assault his bare hand. 

“I’m ok. Almost done packing.” There’s no excitement in his voice. Shouldn’t he be excited? This isn’t going well, this game of chess. Dream glances to his right, watching a car pass him by. 

“Yeah? Kind of crazy it’s tomorrow, right?” He tries to plead with George silently to take the bite. Take the bite of normalcy. Anything but this cold shoulder. Dream could deal with being just friends with George, he’s basically accepted that fate. But he can’t lose George _entirely_. And it feels like he’s slipping. George hums at this. Dream hears some rummaging on the other line. Perhaps George is preoccupied, perhaps that’s the reason for the cold shoulder. But Dream knows better. He can read George fairly well. Something is wrong. “So. It’ll be a long flight. Are you ready for that?” George stalls for a minute. 

“Dream, look. I’m busy packing.” His voice is so dismissive. So bland, lacking in everything that Dream ~~loves about George.~~ That Dream _likes_ about George, holy _shit-_ Dream stops walking. What if he just said it? What if Dream put him into check, if you will. Could it be that easy? To just bring it up, after so much beating around the bush? He hears George start up again, so what he just went there? “So, if you’re going to just tell me things that are obvious then-”

“Am I allowed to flirt with you in person?” 

Dream barely registers that he said it out loud until he feels the ache in his throat. Reality and the weight of what he said crashes into him. His eyes widen, he looks for an escape from the situation he’s created. Why would he say that? George already rejected him what the fuck is wrong with him-

“What?” George chokes on the words. He’s no longer disinterested, at least. Dream has George’s full attention, full scale of emotions. Dream shifts his weight in his feet, then decides to just continue. Hopefully he’ll be able to stop the word vomit. Though the end call button is looking mighty appealing. 

“You heard me. Am I allowed?” He punctuates each word, making sure that George will have to answer this question. He couldn’t get out of it. Dream listens attentively over the line, he no longer hears George packing in the background. George huffs out a short breath before the sharp trill of his voice assaults Dream’s ears. 

“You- You’re asking me that? I haven’t talked to you in days and that’s what you call me to ask?” A frown starts to form on Dream’s face. The cold wind greets it. “I am meeting you tomorrow and I’ve barely talked to you. Honestly, we haven’t talked this whole past month.” His heart drops to his feet. 

“I-I know. And I’m sorry. I’ve been going through-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Dream’s mouth snaps shut, trying to process how wrong this is going. Is-is this what losing someone is like? The cold wind pushes into his soul, it seems. Making everything within it a freezing wasteland. “Dream, like. Are we even friends? Should I even be going over there?” George's voice grows dark and twisted. Dream thinks of every wrong way this could have gone, and he can’t think of one that’s worse than this, the one that’s playing out in his ears. 

“George, please.” His voice breaks slightly. He takes a deep breath, trying to get all the sharp cold air into his lungs. “You know we’re friends.” Dream hates how his stomach twists at the word friends. He has more important things than to think about how he wishes they were more than that. How badly has he been fucking up without even noticing it? “I want you over here. You’ve wanted to come over here for so long. Please, George.”

“Do you even want me there?” George sounds frantic, like he’s on the edge of losing something that he desperately wants to keep. Like they’re on the edge of a mountain, discussing if they should dive. Does George want to take the dive? “Because given the past few weeks, it seems like you don’t. Do you only want me there for the fans? We can just fake it again-”

“No, I want you here.” Dream hates how desperate his own voice is starting to sound. Dream can hear in his voice all the emotion and feelings that he wishes he could explain to George. That he wishes he could explain to _himself._

“Then what the fuck, Dream? Where have you been?” George's voice is losing power and gaining emotion. Dream tries to cling to an answer that won't blow his cover. _Lost in my head. Going about this whole thing the wrong way. Being an idiot._ All are answers on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t have the strength to say them. He doesn’t have the strength to open up the door into where he was. 

“I’m sorry, George.” Is all he can manage to mutter out. The call falls silent. Dream has nothing to add, all his strength wasted. He brings his other arm up to hug himself. He’s never felt so empty, so broken. Someone bumps into his stationary body on the sidewalk, but he doesn’t have the energy to verbalize an apologize anymore. He’s sorry for putting everything on hold while he figures out what to do. He’s sorry for not realizing that ignoring George probably made this whole thing worse. He closes his eyes. “Please, just come over here. I need you here.” Dream honestly doesn’t know what he would do if this trip fell through. What would he do? Go into hiding? Never go on his phone again? Become a hermit? He couldn't stand what that would do to him, what canceling the trip would mean for them. He hears George sigh over the call. 

“I’m still going to come. I’ve wanted to meet you for forever.” His voice is softer, but still extremely guarded. A wave of relief filled with unease travels through Dream’s body. “I just-I’m confused. I’m sorry for-for attacking you like that. It’s just-”

“I get it. Trust me, I get it.” Another wave of silence falls in between them. Dream clears his throat. Whatever that was has settled between them, but it could still come up at any time. Dream tries to find anything to soften the tension. “Um. Sapnap offered to come over tomorrow, if you want. I’m sure he’ll still do it if that’s something that-” 

“No!” George exclaims slightly too loud. Dream winces, but still takes note of the emotional decline. “No, that’s ok. Plus, then I wasted a plane ticket to Houston.” Dream chuckles, trying to tiptoe back into their normal dynamic. 

“They would probably refund you, or I could just give you some money. But ok. I already said no, but I thought I should extend the offer.” George gives a low hum at that. Dream looks back, thinking that he should probably head back to his house, given how utterly exhausted he is. He starts his stroll back at a brisk pace. “Are-Are we cool?” Dream treads hesitantly. They’ve never fought like that, not really. Or at least not in the recent past. Was that a fight? Dream doesn't feel like anything is cleared in the air. 

“Yeah. I’m just confused.” Dream supposes that’s an invitation to explain himself. An invitation that he will promptly ignore. 

“Yeah, me too.” Dream walks in silence with George for a while. It’s not quite comfortable, but it isn’t filled with tension. After Dream has made some progress in getting home, he decides to break the silence. “That was our first couple fight.” He hears George scoff at that. 

“Stop with that.” 

“With what?” George goes silent again. Dream frowns, wondering how far he should go. There’s an air of clarity in this bizarre phone call. Maybe if he’s careful, maybe if he plays innocent. “Can I ask you something?” A part of him needs to know. He’s assumed that he was rejected, but a large part of him hopes he’s wrong. Hope, and Sapnap’s words. 

“Oh, god. What now?” There’s a small hint of a smile in his voice. It hits Dream how much he’s missed that tone. Dream forces a small smile, before swallowing any nerves. Is he going to ruin any chances of him hearing that tone again? 

“Why did you ask me to stop flirting with you?” Something breaks in the air. Dream holds his breath, his heart rate quickening with each passing second that George doesn’t answer. After a while, he hears George sigh. 

“I already told you. The fans-”

“That was bullshit. What was the real reason?” Dream would rather do it like a bandaid. If he got rejected, then that’s that. Kill off the hope already. He’ll be ok, he just needs to know. If there’s a time for this conversation, then it’s now. George stays silent, but Dream doesn’t push. This can’t be easy for him, this must be awkward for George, while it’s excruciatingly painful for Dream. 

“Dream. I can’t-” He hears George take a pause. “I can’t tell you. Maybe after the visit, so it isn’t-” He cuts himself off. Dream frowns at this. So it isn’t _what?_ Dream doesn’t ask, it seems George is having a hard time with it. 

“Ok, so then tell me after.” He softens his voice. Hope creeps into his heart. It almost didn’t sound like that was a rejection, or maybe Dream is delusional. It almost sounds like there was a different reason. Dream wishes he could smother the hope, but it’s a strong flame in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” A smile creeps into his voice, for the first time in a while he’s excited to see George. He isn’t worried about their friendship, at least as much as he has been in the last few days. This conversation at least proved that they can talk through these things, sort of. Part of him also knows that he may be pouring his hope into nothing but a black hole. George may be prolonging it until after their visit just to save face. Still, the amount of relief rushing through his veins is enough to ignore that fact. He’s been meaning to do this for weeks now, and finally he did it. Not very well, but still. It’s in the air. It's been said. 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Dream.” George hangs up. Dream is left confused, hopeful, excited, and nervous for the day to come. And rather cold. Dream speeds up his pace, trying to get home rather quickly. He tucks his hands in his pockets, trying to instil some warmth in his frozen hands. Tomorrow. Less than 24 hours at this point. George will be leaving pretty early in the morning, and then he’ll be here. He can ignore how he feels, he knows he can. He can tell himself to not have a reaction to George in person. He can stop himself, it’ll just be the most exhausting thing he’s ever done. With a slightly new attitude found, Dream stalks back to his house. _He can do this. It’ll be ok._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi. Thanks for reading, as always! So, I wasn't sure if I should make the pandemic like, a thing in this fic. I decided that this is set in the future where masking is still a thing but the travel ban is lifted, and the public is mostly safe. I know probably no one cares about that, but it's been bothering me so. There. These next two upcoming chapters were the ones I was the most excited to write, so I hope you enjoy them! Thank you for the comments and kudos too!!!! They mean a lot and help me get the motivation to write!


	8. The Call Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I know I don't do notes before the chapter, but I thought I should for the next few chapters. Firstly, this chapter is pretty long, it almost hits 5k. So, take your time with it. Also, this is where the mature rating plays in. There is no smut or explicit content in this fic, but in case you didn't want to read anything like it, I thought I'd warn you. The tone shifts pretty quickly, so just skip it if you don't feel comfortable. There will be a short summary of what happened in the notes at the bottom. Thanks!

George is on his way.

Well on his way, in fact. His plane will arrive in about an hour, then he’ll get to his hotel. Then, the day after that, is when they’ll see each other. Spend the next four days together until he leaves to see Sapnap. Dream, not surprisingly, is a mess. After he got home from his impromptu walk and phone call with George, he collapsed into his couch. This whole situation has utterly confused him in a way that he couldn’t have predicted. He needed a moment to decide his game plan for the days to come. He probably should have called Sapnap, but found himself too tired to move. He actually managed to fall asleep on the couch like that, face down struggling to breath with a face full of upholstery. It’s the first bit of rest he’s managed to get in the last seven days. At least he won’t be a complete insomniac by the time George is here. Even still, when he woke up that fated day, he still felt his eyes burn from the lack of sleep. One night of sleep wouldn’t be enough for his body, but it was a start. He slept for twelve hours, which meant by the time he woke up George was already on his plane. George had texted him that in the morning, which Dream only received when he was awake and bothered to look at his phone. Dream quickly did the math on when George would arrive, which almost threw him into a full panic. In a blink of an eye, George was almost here. Though their plan didn’t include Dream doing anything when George arrived, he wasn’t going to pick him up or anything, the fact still remained. George was almost here. 

To either pass time or to try to keep time from passing, he isn’t sure, he calls Sapnap in a blind rush. Still half dazed on the couch and slightly disoriented, he stumbles to get to Sapnap’s contact. The phone rings twice before he picks up. 

“Dream, I’m streaming.” Sapnap says in a soft but warning tone. Dream blinks a few times before he can process the words. Thank God that he said that, since he was about to say something that he wouldn’t want the whole world to hear. What does he do now? Dream quickly drops his phone to look at the screen to see the notification, just to make sure that Sapnap is actually streaming. Dream shakily returns the phone to his ear. He supposes he has to stay now, huh? 

“Ok. Um, are you in discord?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok, I’ll join there. See you in a minute.” Dream ends the call and stands up from his couch, almost falling right back down from standing up too fast. He shakes it off and then slowly gets to his room. He’s more worn out than he thought he’d be. He supposes he needs to follow through on joining Sapnap’s stream, though he really just needed some last minute advice on George. It’s good to be on someone’s stream though, he hasn’t in more than a week at this point. He’s been silent on all social media, so doing this will be good for his image, but when has he ever cared about that? Dream reaches his room and starts up his computer. He stares at the blue startup screen. About an hour away. He sighs, trying to force the tension out of his body. He can do this. He can survive four days. HIs logs onto his computer and starts up discord. He puts his headset on, and then joins the call. Sapnap is reading off a donation when he joins.

“‘-wish that you could have been there today?’ Thanks for the donation, and yeah sure, I guess. I offered to go over there but they both said no. They wanted their alone time.” Sapnap says the last part suggestively. Dream somehow finds the humor in it, even though his stomach drops at the truth of that statement. He never thought about why he didn’t want Sapnap there, but there it is. God, everything he does stems from him liking George, doesn’t it? Dream huffs out a breath. And of course Sapnap knows the real reason before Dream even had a chance to work it out for himself. And of course Sapnap wasn’t vague with the chat, but couldn’t give Dream a straight answer to save his life. In the back of his mind, he wonders how many donations or messages that were like that that Sapnap has had to fend off in the past few weeks. Dream needs to give him more credit, but it's still annoying that Sapnap couldn't be a little more secretive about it. 

“Oh, come on now.” He mumbles. Dream pulls up Sapnap’s stream, though he could just comment without even having it open. Without having to see the chat. Though he supposes he should at least try to be normal. Pulling up the stream to see what's happening is a normal thing he would usually do. 

“Dream! Long time no see. How are you?” Sapnap ventures. Dream can tell how careful Sapnap is being with him. Dream settles in his chair, leans back a little bit more in it. It’s a simple question he has to answer, but the answer is so clouded and messy. Does he say how exhausted he is? That he literally isn’t sure if he’s dreaming this or if it’s reality? That his eyes feel like they weigh a ton? 

“I’m ok. Excited.” That’s one lie told in the span of 15 seconds he’s been on the stream. Great start. Sapnap hums, clearly seeing through it, but not commenting on it. _Thank you._

“When is George getting there. He tweeted out when he left, but I would assume you would know more.” The last part feels very pointed. Like Sapnap is commenting on the fact that George and Dream haven’t been talking as much as they should have been. Dream narrows his eyes. What game is Sapnap playing here? Whose side is he on? He doesn’t need to be guilt tripped right now. Especially not on a stream with 60,000 people watching. 

“He’ll get off the plane in about an hour,” Dream glances at the clock. “Less than that, actually. And then he’ll get to his hotel. I actually will see him tomorrow. Give him the night to rest.” Dream tries to keep his voice calm. Tries to keep up this indifference or at least his cool to not reveal how scared he is about this whole thing. George will be within driving distance very soon. Dream will have to go pick George up tomorrow. George will know what Dream looks like tomorrow. It’s so much, and there’s no backing out of it anymore. Dream glances to the chat, probably a mistake. Most of them are excited that he’s here, excited that he confirmed George’s arrival, but one question keeps popping up. _‘Where were you?’_ Similar to what George said yesterday. A flash of pain hits him. Somehow, Sapnap most of seen the spam of questions too. 

“Chat, let’s give the guy a break. He’s been preparing for this special week for awhile.” Dream smiles faintly at that. He wonders how long Sapnap has been covering for him. He’s almost compelled to say thank you to him, but that would give it away. He instead commits to thanking Sapnap privately later, maybe when this week is finished. Dream settles into the familiarity of chatting and joking with Sapnap as he plays Minecraft. Dream lets the time pass him by, only growing slightly more uneasy every time his eyes travel to the clock. After a painfully long time of watching Sapnap fail at speedrunning, his phone goes off. 

It’s a text from George. 

_“I am getting to the hotel now!!!”_

Dream lets out a shaky breath, one he knows that his mic picked up. One he knows will be picked apart online. 

“George is in Florida.” He says it so monotone, so distantly. He stares at the message, his mind racing. He somehow has the idea to actually text George back. Be normal, he tells himself. That's the goal. 

_“Text me when you get there!”_

He’s impressed with how good he is getting at texting. That message doesn’t convey all the emotions he’s going through. Excitement, dread, guilt, worry, it’s a dangerous cocktail along with a side of no sleep. His head starts to hurt and his heart feels constricted. Almost like he was in a fog, he hears Sapnap celebrate distantly. Almost cheering. Is he supposed to do that as well? A shudder runs through Dream’s spine. Maybe in a different world, this would be normal. He would feel the normal amount of emotions in finally seeing his best friend in person. Why couldn’t this be normal? Suddenly, Sapnap’s celebration stops for muddled words. It takes Dream a moment to realize that he said something to him. 

“What?” Dream’s voice is weak and distraught, even Dream can hear it. God, he hopes no one in chat is listening too closely. He hopes that George isn’t tuning into the stream. That would be the worst case scenario. George could read Dream like a book if he so chose. 

“I said, what are you planning to do with George? I got my own itinerary, but I want to know yours. Going to any fancy places? Any dates?” Dream groans. Why is he like this? 

“You’re awful.” Dream says this in a way that is full of meaning, only directed to Sapnap. Sapnap picks up on it and giggles. The audacity. “I’m not telling you what I have planned. Knowing you, you have nothing planned and just want to piggyback off of my stuff.” Sapnap gasps at this. This pulls a smile out of Dream, a weak one but still. He lets himself let go of some of the dread for the upcoming days. He tries to tell himself that if it really goes bad he can still ask Sapnap to drive over, he'll do that for them. It’ll be ok. He nervously starts to tap his fingers on his desk, knowing that they're far away enough to not pick on his mic. 

“How far is this hotel?” Dream rubs his aching temples with his other hand. The wash of emotions is making him tired and loopy, and in a lot of pain. More pain than he’s been feeling as of late. More pain than what he's used to. 

“Well, I don’t know how much information I should tell you. People could easily figure where the hotel is if I give too much. But, from the airport it’s like a 15 minute drive. I’ll have to drive a bit more than that tomorrow to get him.” 

“I don’t think anyone is going to like, dox you. But I mean, you can never be too careful, I guess. Hey! Thanks for the twenty-five subs!” Things continue like this. George texts Dream that he’s in his hotel a little later, which only makes Dream’s blood spike even more. Luckily, George doesn’t join the call. With how hard it’s getting to fake being normal in front of Sapnap, and given their last conversation yesterday, Dream wouldn’t last a minute. At around five in the evening, Dream leaves Sapnap’s stream, finding his heart can’t take much more. It’s too exhausting, too draining. And he’ll have to do it all again tomorrow. And the next few days after that. He's already exhausted knowing that George is close to him. 

Dream slides away from his desk, finding that he has no strength to physically lift himself from the chair. For having slept twelve hours and then barely being up today, he’s already tired. He hasn’t eaten yet or done anything, all he did is join a call, yet here he is. Barely able to stay awake in his chair. He leans back fully in the chair, careful not to go too far back. He doesn’t want to fall again. He works on breathing deeply, pushing his lungs to full capacity and then letting it all go. The constant ache in his head starts to stop, thankfully. He closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of fullness in his lungs, and then complete emptiness. He focuses on the feeling of his feet lightly touching the ground, his arms pressing against the arm rests. His back hitting the back of the chair. He tries to think of how many things he still has to do to prepare for George. Shower, eat, perhaps go grocery shopping. Figure out what he’s wearing when he meets George. He keeps breathing through his nose, and out through his mouth. He can do it, just one step at a time. Right when he feels the most relaxed, the most at peace he has in the last few hours, his phone starts to ring. He jumps, thankfully he doesn’t fall to the ground. He looks to his phone to see George’s icon flashing on his screen. He stares at it for a second, an unease slowly taking over his body. He just can't catch a break, can he? He reasons that of course George would call him, they’re meeting up tomorrow. With unsteady hands, Dream presses the accept and holds the phone to his ear. 

“Hey, welcome to Florida.” Dream tries to sound as excited as he can, given how weak he actually feels. He hears George laugh over the line, which only makes him weaker. 

“Thank you! It’s quite warm here.” Dream sometimes forgets that the rest of the world is facing near zero temperatures, while he can go outside with a windbreaker and be fine. It pulls a small smile from Dream, not enough to lift the overcast of unease that's over him. 

“How was the flight? The hotel ok?” Another laugh carries over the line, only making Dream fall deeper into his chair. Deeper into… something. Though Dream now regrets ghosting George, he had a reason to do so. And here’s the reason. Hearing George’s voice like this does something to Dream. Does George know what he’s doing? Of course he doesn't. George doesn't think that way for Dream. Is this whole trip going to be bitter reminders of that fact? 

“Yes! The flight was ok, I’m not great with flying but it wasn’t bad. And this hotel!” He pauses, probably for dramatic effect. “Dream, it’s insane. You didn’t have to get such a fancy place!” A warm feeling settles over Dream, it’s the only pleasant feeling he’s had in days now. So he chases it. 

“Describe the room for me. I only saw pictures.” George hums at this. 

“Well, there’s like three rooms. It’s the best hotel room I’ve ever had. It’s a beautiful view, really. That’s the most impressive part. There’s a huge window, so the view is shown off. The window goes to the floor, it’s insane! The bathroom is great. There’s like, a living room or something? The bed is huge, I’ve never seen a king size bed.” George pauses at this, then laughs nervously. “There’s also some weird art hanging up here.” He stumbles into this. Dream ignores the nervousness from George. 

“Yeah? Like that cheesy hotel art? What’s this one of?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a bunch of pink and blue circles over a black canvas.” Dream hums at this. 

“Ah, yes. Circles on black canvas. A classic.” He puts on his best posh accent. “The black represents the void in our lives, while the colorful circles show how, even in the void, there’s something to look forward to.” George giggles at this, and another jolt of happiness floods into him. For once, he isn’t feeling like he’s fucking up. This is the first normal conversation they’ve had in awhile. It’s like yesterday never even happened. It’s like this past month never even happened. This is exactly like how they usually are. Would Dream go back to this if he had the chance? Dream clears his throat, avoiding the question. “Are you excited for tomorrow?” 

“Words can’t describe. I was listening in on Sapnap’s stream.” A wave of dread washes over him, though it’s not enough to stop the high that he’s on. The high that he’s pursuing. “You didn’t say what you had planned. Do I get to know?” Dream hums at this, feigning that he's actually going to tell George.

“Nah, it’ll be a surprise.” 

“Do you even know what we’re doing?” Ah, so he’s not as good at bluffing as he pretends to be. 

“Maybe. I would word it more like I’m a man spontaneity.” 

“Sure you are.” Dream chuckles at that. This is going well, he thought it would be harder than this, but it’s easy to talk to George. It’s never been hard to talk to George, maybe it was all in his head. If he just lets himself relax, this won’t be so bad. Maybe this week won’t be as exhausting as he originally thought it would be. “I can’t believe I’ll get to know what the elusive Dream looks like in a day.” Dream gives a half hearted chuckle to that. He doesn’t need to be reminded that he has to let George finally see what he looks like. It's just one more thing to stress about on the pile. 

“Yeah, yeah. What do you think I look like? We’ll see if you’re anywhere close.” George gives out a bark of laughter to that. A warm blanket settles over Dream’s heart. 

“Ha! I don’t know, I try not to think about it. I think that will set me up for failure.” Dream smirks at this. 

“Oh, I’ll beat any expectations you have, I promise.” He can fake being cocky, he’s made an entire brand out of doing so. He hears George chuckle.

"Well, I know you're tall and blond. That's all I know. Do you have long hair?" Dream runs a hand through his hair. He should have gotten a haircut before this visit. Another thing he now has to stress about. 

"I guess you'll find out tomorrow." George groans at this. Dream gives a light chuckle, enjoying the conversation. He settles into a comfortable little silence with George. He gets comfortable in his seat, feeling almost warm and fuzzy feeling take over him. He then hears a yawn over the line. 

“Tired? When did you get up?”

“Well, the plane left at around noon, but I’m just tired. It’s a lot later in England than it is here. It was a long flight.” Dream hums at this, thinking that they may want to wrap up the conversation soon so George has energy for tomorrow. Also, Dream could use the time to do some final preparations. Both physical and mental. They have a long four days ahead of them. 

“Did you get any sleep on the flight?” George laughs nervously at that.

“Not much, if I’m being honest. I was a little nervous for this trip.” Dream frowns and sinks into his chair a little more. George is… awfully nervous, for some reason. Dream tucks that bit of information in the back of his mind. 

“You can sleep now if you want. It’s a little early, but you might need the sleep. Try out that king size bed.” Dream’s voice drifts into softness. Dream is reluctant, to say the least, to let George go. He hasn’t talked like a normal person to George in ages, but he recognizes that it needs to be done. This mood of normalcy and joking had to end at some point. Maybe this is them realizing that this is the last conversation they’ll have before everything changes. Before George knows what he looks like, before Dream finally asks the questions that haunt his dreams. George makes a little noise of disapproval. 

“I’m not tired enough to go to sleep.” George’s voice follows in softness. He lowers his volume, making the fatigue in his voice stand out. “I’m just tired enough to feel it.” Dream’s brows cross at that. There’s nothing particularly wrong with that sentence, but it still feels like George is hiding something from him. The drunk stream pops into his mind, where George told Dream to just tell a story. That he likes his voice. George sounds tired, sounds like he’s about to fall asleep any second now, but is still refusing to go to sleep. Possibly to keep talking to Dream. Dream tried not to think too much of it as it happened when George was drunk, knowing that it wasn’t a fair assessment. But here? Is this that innocent? A bright light of hope starts up in Dream’s stomach. Dream looks to the wall. Should… should he chase this hope? Chase the only hope he’s seen from George? He reasons that there are plenty of innocent reasons why George said that, and why George would want to keep talking to him. He may just be projecting. But… it doesn’t hurt to just make sure? He swallows thickly, then wades into the thick water of hope. 

“You sound tired. You sure?” Dream intentionally lowers the pitch of his voice, trying to see how far he can take this idea. It might be his own exhaustion forcing him to do this, his lack of good judgement skills, but he’ll ride with it. George takes a pause at this, and Dream hopes he hasn’t noticed the shift in intention. 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Dream narrows his eyes at this. George isn’t backing down. 

“But why? Why don’t you get some rest? What’s keeping you up?” Another pause at this. Dream begins to play with the edge of his chair, fraying the material there. His voice is barely above a whisper. Dream watches his hand play with the material on his chair, he finds himself wishing it were George’s hair. Softly playing with his hair, making him comfortable, making him fall asleep. But Dream is alone in his room, simply talking to someone who would probably be extremely uncomfortable with Dream playing with his hair. 

“I suppose you’re keeping me up.” Is George’s response after a while. There’s an emotion in there that Dream can’t read. George’s own voice has gotten lower, as well. Dream smirks at the comment, feeling something dangerous settle within him. He’s too tired for this, he’s too emotional exhausted for this. He should stop now, stop before he can say anything he regrets. The atmosphere is far too honest. But he doesn’t want to. Something in him tells him to continue to chase it, to continue to pry. 

“Oh? Why would I keep you up?” 

“Dream.” George says very pointedly, like a warning. And Dream sees it. Dream can see the danger ahead. There’s a few ways this ends. Dream stops. They hang up. George returns the conversation to being about something else. Something meaningless. Dream won’t be able to focus after that. Or George could reject Dream here, this might be where it happens. Or… Something else. Something that Dream craves. Something that he hopes for, that the kindle in his stomach hopes for. Yearns for. Something that he only allows himself to yearn for late at night. Something that he doesn’t have a chance in Hell at getting. But it already feels like he’s in Hell, so might as well try for it. 

“George.” Dream says his name as a warning, it’s fitting. The ball is in George’s court. There’s a long pause after this. Dream continues to play with the edge of his chair. After a while, he hears a sigh over the other side of the line. He hears George settle onto something, probably the bed. 

“Dream, I can’t do this. It’s too much.” George’s voice shifted dramatically. It’s honest, there’s no sign of pleasantries. It’s like a curtain fell. Were they acting before? Dream closes his eyes. He’s gotten so far, he needs to know why. He’ll stop once he knows why. If it leads to rejection, to the end of their friendship, so be it. Dream is too exhausted to play this game. Right now, he’s willing to risk it all just to get a clear answer. 

“Why can’t you? What’s stopping you?” Every breath feels so forced, nothing is natural to Dream right now. Dream doesn’t dare let his voice rise above a certain pitch. He stays low and quiet. Dream listens attentively to George’s breath, which is coming out in short pants. Interesting. _Is that what my voice does? How true was that drunk stream of yours?_ Is there another reason as to why you asked me to stop flirting with you? Things he doesn’t let himself think. Things he shouldn’t let himself think. Hope is dangerous. 

“Dream, please. I-I can’t-”

“No, tell me. Now.” At the command, George produces a wonderful, beautiful noise that Dream couldn’t have dreamt of. An image appears of George, on the edge of some fancy bed, clutching the sheets. Holding a hand over his mouth, shock filling his eyes. Dream raises his eyebrows. It all clicks. Sapnap was right. Holy _shit,_ Dream has a shot. There’s no innocent explanation to that sound. There’s no innocent explanation to this part of the conversation. There’s something below the surface, there’s something to have hope for. Dream hums, the noise mostly involuntary while also playing a part in this. “Ok, I can work with that.” A gasp comes through the other line, which makes heat blossom in Dream’s chest. Is this happening? Is that all it took? 

“Dream, wait. Look I-”

“No, don’t explain it.” George sounds wrecked. A surge of pride makes its way through him. Dream lowers his voice as far as he can, as far as he is willing. If this is what George likes, he can do this. He’ll do anything to hear that noise again. “Do you remember when you were drunk? Right before you stopped streaming? Do you remember what you said to me?” This doesn’t get an answer from George, just a small whimper. Dream grips his arm rest. Grips it, still wishing that it were George’s hair. His chest feels tight, everything is surreal. It’s like time is stopping for him, everything is stagnant except for his body reacting to what’s happening. Dream realizes that George’s voice does something to him as well, though George doesn’t need to know that right now. “That was a yes or a no question. Answer.” Dream can hear George take a deep breath. 

“Y-Yes I remember.” 

“Can you repeat what you said?” Dream isn’t sure how long he can keep his voice low and unbothered like this. His mouth is getting dry and he is having a hard time being able to breath correctly. George takes his time with his answer, probably trying to compose himself enough to say a sentence. Dream can picture a flushed George sitting on the edge of the bed, just trying to compose himself to answer a simple question. Glorious. It's something that he's imagined late in the night, not something he thought he'd actually experience. God, he wished he was there. 

“I-I said something like, I liked the sound of your voice.” He smirks. He can push for a more specific answer. That’s still not incriminating enough. He needs hard proof that he isn’t projecting. That this is real, and that this is happening. 

“More details. You liked my voice how? In what way?” Dream isn’t actually sure if George remembers this at all, though it seems like he does now. Right after the stream, after George sobered up, he refused to talk about it to Dream, saying he didn’t remember much. Was that a lie? If this is all actually happening, then Dream doesn’t have to guess very hard as to why George lied. That stream has been burned in Dream’s memory, though he’s tried to forget out of respect for George. George releases a shaky sigh.

“I like it when you sound like you’re taking care of me.” Dream sighs out all his stress. There’s no way this is happening. George wouldn’t do this if he intended to reject Dream. This is real. This is happening. What's next? 

“Good.” He applauds George, praising him for the small victory of being able to admit this. George outright moans at that. Dream throws his head back, feeling a liquid heat start to fire up deep within him. He grips his armchair harder than he should, bites his lip to stop himself from having a reaction. “Ok.” His voice is shaky, he can’t keep it up anymore. His voice is wrecked and hoarse, but maybe that adds to the effect. “D-Do you want me to take care of you?” 

The implications with what he just said catch up with him. There’s no turning back now. There’s no doubt what he meant by that, no room for interpretation. Dream hangs onto the silence over the phone. He wonders if George can hear his short breaths over the phone. HIs heart racing over the phone. After a while, George’s voice enters his ears, slightly more sober and in control than it was a few seconds ago.

“What do you mean by that?” Dream ponders what he actually meant by this. What would be best? Finishing over the phone and then awkwardly seeing each other tomorrow? What _does_ he mean by that?

“It’s an hour drive.” Dream leaves it at that, knowing that even in this fog George will know what he means by this. He can hear a small gasp leave George. 

_“Clay.”_

Fuck. 

He never knew that his name could be said like that. He never knew that he needed his name to be said like that. He needs his name to be said like that over and over again. He stands up, finding his legs feel like water. He props himself up on his chair. 

“I’ll be there soon.” His voice is rough, torn at the edges. He’s breathless just from standing up. 

“Ok.” It’s a weak response, but still it’s confirmation. He hangs up, not letting anything second guess him. Not letting a second go to waste. He stumbles to get his keys. He has enough presence of mind to grab a jacket, though he doesn’t feel like anything could cool him down right now. He gets to his car, and starts the drive. His inner monologue the whole time yelling, holy _shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! So if you skipped the last few paragraphs, what happened is that they got horny on main and now Dream is driving to George's hotel. I still haven't decided if I'm adding another chapter, it depends how long one upcoming chapter gets. But yeah! We're getting close to the end with this! We're at the part of the fic that I was most excited to write. See you next week!


	9. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Again, this is a long one. Also, suggestive content ahead. If that's not your thing, again there will be a brief summary at the end notes. Thanks!

It’s almost laughable how anticlimactic this drive is. 

It isn’t almost, it is laughable. Dream has cracked up several times after his heart rate went down. What makes it more funny is imagining George’s perspective. 

Comedy. Gold. 

George just sitting there waiting? Maybe twiddling his thumbs? Checking his phone, maybe even playing a phone game while he waits? Funny stuff right there. 

Dream snaps back to reality, to the open road layed out in front of him. What is he _doing?_ About twenty minutes into the drive he had a clear enough mind to realize that this is insane. That he’s throwing away his plan of playing it cool, with muddling through this week. With ignoring his feelings. He threw it away and for what? Heated words over a phone? A promise? The worst part, or the best part he isn’t sure, is that he can’t turn back. He has to see this through. If he just turns around and then tells George, _‘hey, sorry, I can’t. See you tomorrow though!’_ That would ruin everything. It’s the high of knowing he has a chance, the high of the phone call, the heat that makes him lean into the gas pedal beneath him. 

What would be even funnier is if he got pulled over. That would be great. Explaining to the officer that he’s on his way to-

To do _what,_ exactly? 

Dream lets out a shaky exhale, his grip tightening over the wheel. 

He’ll cross that bridge when he needs to.

Which is in half an hour. 

What is he even going to do when he gets to George’s hotel? He knows the room, since he paid for it, so he supposes he can just walk up to the door and knock on it. Then what? Shove George against a wall? Dream hastily gets into the passing lane to pass a green Kia. He really should be driving a little better than he is, at this rate if a cop saw him he'd be pulled over for sure. Though the roads are mostly empty at this time, they won’t be the closer he gets to the city. He can’t go 95 on the interstate near Miami. Dream leans back in the seat, setting his cruise to something reasonable and letting one hand fall to his lap. He supposes that they’ll talk when he gets there. He almost slaps himself for feeling an ounce of disappointment. Of course Dream wasn’t going to just pull up and fuck the brains out of George, what the _fuck?_ Would Dream even want that? A spike of heat tells him that yes, he wants that. He shakes his head, trying to ignore it and derail that train of thought. 

So, they’ll talk. They need to talk. There's so much to say and figure out. Dream switches lanes, controlling the urge to speed. What will they talk about? Everything? What does that entail? What does _everything mean?_ The phone call, the one that started it all. It needs to be talked about. The joking, the flirting. How Dream feels about George. Dream needs to know if it was a rejection, though that possibility has almost flown itself out the window with recent developments. More importantly, Dream needs to know how George feels about _him._ Dream glances at the neon clock in his car. 

Twenty minutes. 

Twenty minutes before he arrives. 

Dream is going to get there faster than an hour, given how fast he's been going. Dream sighs and lowers his speed just a little bit more. There’s also the matter that this is how George will find out what Dream looks like. What a way to do it. A man of spontaneity he truly is. He hopes he looks good, though there’s not much he can do about it now. He glances down to see what he left in. Jeans, a black t-shirt, and his jacket. Not… great, though it’s a good representation of his style. This is what George will see him in. This is the story that George will have. 

Oh God, the story. He figures that they’ll have to make up a fake story for their first time meeting each other, though that's not something he should be worrying about right now. Something for the fans. Something for Sapnap. A smile appears on Dream. Sapnap might get a kick out of this. At least, Dream will get an ear full if Sapnap finds out what’s happening right now. Dream thinks back to the countless innuendos that Sapnap provided, the countless jabs in streams and in conversations to _both_ him and George. Did… Sapnap know the whole time? There’s a lot to discuss, isn’t there? Dream watches the lights of Miami peek through the darkness. He always enjoyed driving at night, something about it eases his mind. Traffic starts to pick up considerably as he gets closer to the city. Closer to George. 

Will George… What will George do when he gets there? After they talk, after they sort out whatever happened, what will happen? Dream tries to resolve himself to just focusing on driving. To getting there and then finding out the answers to all these questions. He passes a hidden cop car, happy that he slowed down enough not to be getting pulled over right now. Dream watches the passing signs for the city, until he’s physically in Miami. Then, his exit appears. He takes the exit, his body not used to the slow speeds. He glances to the clock for a final time.

Ten minutes. 

He wonders if George is looking at a clock, waiting for him. Waiting in a luxury suite in a luxury hotel. A smirk crosses along his features, the image warming him somewhat. Dream finds his way through the city, only slightly annoyed when a red light stops him. The anticipation sinking in. He’s minutes away from seeing George. The phone call aside, this is something he’s wanted for so long. The venue only adds to the feeling. He’s never been in a place as fancy as this hotel. He remembers seeing his bank statement, seeing the payment to the hotel there. Quite a lot. It better be nice. Dream slowly drives down the strip, watching people walking around there. Finally, he reaches the huge hotel in the heart of Miami. He pulls into the front, quickly getting some cash out. The hotel is like a cliche of any fancy hotel he’s seen in movies. Tall, long windows, lights all about the building. Overwhelming in the best way possible. He puts on his simple black mask as he unbuckles himself. A man approaches his window, and a quick interaction between giving the man money and his keys takes place. After that, Dream enters the hotel through crystal glass doors. 

He’s greeted by an open floor plan and impossibly high ceiling. The front desk is miles away, leaving room for a decorative wood floor design and a few potted plants hung up from the ceiling. The white walls with black accents give way to a more modern approach to the cliche of a hotel. Perhaps if he wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack, Dream could have spent more time standing in the entryway looking like an idiot. He stumbles into a slow walk, trying to locate the elevators. No one calls him, thankfully. He gets to a hallway with twin gold elevators in the wall. He presses the up button, and leans against the opposite wall while he waits. There’s light music playing, perhaps it’s live music from somewhere in the large lobby. Dream glances at his phone, to double check the room he’s going to. Should he text George that he’s here? He decides no. Even though this situation is… suggestive, he still wants a little bit of fun with it. He breathes deeply, watching the elevator numbers descending down to one. The elevator rings, and the doors open before him. He steps inside, and gingerly presses the second to the top floor. The elevator closes, almost like they're sealing his fate for the evening. 

He stands in the empty elevator, letting himself be carried to an impossible height. Letting himself be carried to George. He’s a few seconds away from meeting him. He smiles, though his nerves are making it hard to focus. George will know everything soon. Dream will know about George’s real feelings in this whole situation. A few seconds away from it all. From whatever is about to happen. He wipes his hands on his jeans, trying to grasp at feeling normal. About halfway to his destination, the elevator stops and opens on a floor. An old woman steps in, nods to him, and presses a floor that’s six floors higher. Dream sighs, trying to will himself to calm down. Whatever happens, or whatever doesn’t happen, is fine. It’ll be ok. They’ll talk about it. There’s nothing to be nervous about, except that he’s risking their friendship and being able to talk to George ever again. Though, it sounded like George was into whatever that phone call was. He starts to fidget with his jacket zipper, feeling a little out of place. A little like he maybe shouldn’t have come here, like he rushed into something he shouldn’t have. Maybe he could still turn around, say this was a bad idea. The lady next to him clears her throat, and he glances at her. 

“You seem nervous.” Do people just strike up conversation like this with strangers? Dream clears his throat as well, trying to find an appropriate answer to that statement. 

“Sorry, if it’s off putting.” He gives a heartless chuckle. She looks at him. She’s definitely older than him by a few decades, though there is a sparkle in her eyes. She looks like a mother, somehow. Though she’s dressed in probably very expensive clothes, there’s no coldness that usually comes with wealth. Just motherly warmth. Enough warmth that when you talk to a stranger, it’s not completely awkward. 

“Whatevers troubling you, I hope it works out.” Dream hums at that. He glances to what floor they’re at, seeing that they’re almost where she pushed the button for. 

“Aren’t you supposed to say that everything _will_ work out?” She laughs at that bitterly. They reach her floor, and as she’s walking out, she starts talking. 

“Life doesn’t owe you anything, nothing will certainly work out. You can only hope. Good luck, kid.” The door closes, and then the elevator jolts back to carrying him up. He stares at where she was for a long moment. Of course that would happen right now. Just his luck. Just to make him even more uneasy. Only a few seconds later, the elevator stops on the designated floor. 

Dream steps out to carpeted floors and a line of oak doors. He looks at his phone for one last time, looking at the hotel room listed there. 30-12. He sticks his phone in his pocket, then steps out into the hallway, looking for 12. 

It doesn’t take him long. This floor is the suites, so there aren’t many different rooms. He finds 30-12 within a minute. And then he’s standing outside of the door, waiting. Waiting for the confidence he needs to do this. Has he even made a plan as to what he’s saying to George? No, he hasn’t. He’ll let George take the lead. He breathes in through his nose, feeling his lungs expand, feeling his heart lift. He can do this. He hopes. He has to hope it’ll go well. He runs a hand through his hair, adjusting his posture and willing himself to calm down. He knocks on the solid oak door, finalizing his decision, finalizing the night.

He has the presence of mind to cover the peephole on the door with his thumb, not letting George get even that. Though there’s little to no point in that, when George opens the door he’s done for. He hears steps getting closer to the door, and then a pause. After awhile, a very british accent travels through the door. 

“Hello?” That pulls a smile out of Dream, and also a stroke. Hearing George in person is an experience. He’s real, he’s here. This is happening. Dream’s heart has traveled to his throat, but still he manages a small response to that. 

“Hi.” It’s quiet, quiet enough that he isn’t even sure if George could hear it. Dream closes his eyes, trying to center himself. Recognizing that this is the last time their relationship will ever be the same. Even if nothing happens, this meetup will change everything. Through his thumb on the door, he can feel the lock turning on the door. He stands back, and puts his hands in his pockets to keep them still. His heart hammering, he looks up to see a very real George looking up at him. 

They stand like that for a few moments, feet apart but nothing in between them. No door, no screen, no mask. Nothing. Dream can see the detail in George’s eyes, his face. Anything and everything. It’s all there. Dream notes the height difference. It’s not towering, but it’s noticeable. It’s cute. He smiles, happy the mask is there so that George can’t see it. George’s eyes scan over every visible inch of Dream’s face, another thing that Dream notes as cute. And he doesn’t have to scold himself for associating George with the word cute. There’s no shame. After way too long of a time, Dream disrupts the silence. 

“Hi.” He repeats. He really probably should have made a plan when he came here, or at least have an opener. He had the whole drive to think of something, and yet here he is. Not knowing at all what to do. What should he even do in this situation? George shifts his weight on his feet, another thing that is ungodly cute what the _fuck-_

“Hi. How was the drive?” George’s voice is small. Weak. Cautious. Small talk. Yes. That phase. They have to get through that phase before they can actually get to why he came. 

“Fine, roads were fine until I got to the city.” George nods, and then moves into the room motioning with his head for Dream to follow suit. Dream swallows whatever nerves he has left, and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. 

George wasn’t joking when he said this room was insane. Oak shelving, a huge window overlooking the blinking lights of the city, a white couch, a hallway that probably travels to the bedroom. George steps into the main room, the orange glow shining over him. Dream smiles, his heart filling up. Then he realizes that he should take his mask off, the final face reveal. He does so slowly, trying to play it nonchalantly. Like he doesn’t care, though he does care that George is seeing him. He delicately folds his mask and puts it onto one of the shelving units, as well as taking off his jacket and placing it on top of the mask as he crosses his way to George. George is just staring at him, not even trying to hide the fact. Dream smirks at him and raises an eyebrow, daring George to comment. George looks away at this, which only makes Dream’s smirk wider. There's a hint of flush on George's face, but the lightning hides it well enough. Not well enough that Dream doesn't notice it. He leans against the couch and looks out the window, not really knowing what else to do. He watches the few people that are walking on the sidewalk below them. 

“I can’t believe this is real.” George mutters from somewhere to the right of him. Dream hums in agreement. He thinks of the meeting as well as the phone call an hour prior. What should he do? If this were normal, he would have hugged George, made a huge deal with his face reveal. Joked, laughed. Something. But this isn’t normal. Everything is being played down. Dream looks over to George, who is settling himself down on the couch, the opposite side from where Dream is leaning on. Dream tries not to let that sting him as much as it actually does. Dream shifts to sitting on the couch, facing his body towards George. 

George, who is openly staring at him. George, with his hair slightly messed up. George, who is in sweats but still manages to look cute in them. George, with his piercing eyes. They lock eyes for a long moment. George has something dark and secretive twisting in his eyes. A battle, a decision is happening within him. Dream is fine with letting George make whatever decision, he’s fine with letting George take the lead. However, staring into his soul is getting too real, too much. Dream looks back to the window, a great distraction. Dream can still feel George’s eyes on him. Dream tries not to shift uncomfortably. 

“Somehow, you’re exactly how I thought you’d look.” Dream glances back to George, who now has a crease in his forehead. Dream has the urge to run his fingers over it, to smooth it out. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to think about what I looked like.” That’s from the phone call. Dream knows it, and from the shocked expression that George has, he knows it as well. He's brought it up. George then narrows his eyes. 

“I did. But that didn’t stop me from wondering.” Dream hums at that. They’re dancing around the subject, like always. It’s always this carefully planned way to hint at something while never saying anything. Dream tries to find a way to bypass this system. 

“Well, is it good that I look like how you thought I did?” Dream raises one eyebrow to George. They stare at each other for a moment again. There is no way to answer that question innocently, or at least George probably doesn’t have an innocent answer. Hopefully. Dream puts his arm up against the top of the couch, opening up his body language. George is almost scowling at Dream, the battle in his eyes still raging on. Something is definitely bothering George. Dream doesn’t comment, he has committed himself to letting George take the lead. He's willing to ride this ride to wherever it goes. 

And then, like a snap of his fingers, the battle ends. 

His eyes clear up. A decision has been made. 

And before Dream can process this development in George’s demeanor, George launches himself at him. 

One second they were at opposite ends of this couch, the next George is in Dream’s lap. There’s a brief moment where they lock eyes. Dream probably looks shocked, feels shocked, but George looks calm and sure of himself. Then, George’s eyes slip closed and George leans into Dream. 

He presses his lips to Dream’s, as well as slipping his hands into Dream’s hair, slightly tugging. It takes Dream longer than he would like to admit to respond to this. Just the feeling of George against him is doing a lot for him. George is solid and here, and literally throwing himself at him. Dream closes his eyes and starts to kiss George back earnestly. He places one hand on George’s back, almost trying to keep him there. 

The kiss is cautious at first. Both going slow, getting used to moving against each other, both getting used to this new feeling. Dream takes his other hand and softly grabs George’s chin, adjusting the angle of the kiss. George sighs into it, grabbing at Dream’s hair again. A flame of heat enters Dream’s bloodstream, and Dream runs with it. There’s no shame or feeling like he shouldn’t be here anymore. It feels like he should have been doing this for years, even though they just met. Dream pulls George closer, almost no space is between their bodies. George responds kindly to this, adjusting himself until he’s comfortably straddling Dream's legs. After that, caution is flown out of the window. Their kisses turn heated, more pressure, deeper. Dream manually tilts George’s head so he can have better access to the pale skin of his neck. He leaves trails of kisses there, enjoying the hitch in George’s breath. George moves a hand out of his hair to grip the fabric of his shirt on his shoulder. Dream continues to kiss his way to George’s collarbone, where he lingers there. 

As his mouth is busy drinking in George, his hands start to explore. His hands start to drift to the hem of George’s shirt, then start to explore the skin under it. The small of his back, his ribs, the expanse of his chest. Dream takes all the time he needs to slowly and lightly touch every part of George that he wishes. The smooth skin starting to have goosebumps under his touch. George begins to pant, digging his nails further into Dream’s shirt. Dream smirks into his collarbone, enjoying George’s reactions. 

A very large part of himself can’t believe this is happening. That this must be a dream, a really amazing fever dream. Dream only just realized he wanted to do something like this about two weeks ago. He still hasn't figured out how long he's actually like George, but here he is. It didn’t take them long at all to get into this position, not that he’s complaining. He just wished they could have talked about it beforehand. He wants to know where he’s at with George. There’s so many things left unsaid. So many things to talk about. So many things on the tip of his tongue. 

George stirs from his spot, moving away from Dream’s mouth. He looks at Dream, eyes lidded, face flushed. George's eyes dart all over Dream's face, but Dream can't get over his eyes. The swirls of brown laced with black tell a million stories. George's hand comes up to cup his jar, mindlessly thumbing it. George then grabs the front of his shirt and forces their mouths together again, kissing him like it’s the end of the world, breaking the somber moment. Dream makes a small noise of approval at this, he really couldn't care less what the mood is as long as he has George. George’s hand travels directly over Dream’s heart, steady and firm. If Dream was thinking straight he probably would be embarrassed by how fast his heart is going. Right now, the feeling to George’s hands on him is more than enough to stop any higher function in his brain. George gets closer to Dream ear, the hot breath pushing against him. His heart is pumping out pure flames. 

“Tell me a story.” George says in a breathy whisper. George doesn’t sound sober, but Dream isn’t acting sober so he can’t knock him about it. A pair of lips softly kisses the shell of his ear, then begins to move down Dream’s neck just as he had done moments ago. Dream throws his head back, both a way to give George more room as well as being involuntary. The words that George said begin to process in his mind. Dream could tease George about his obsession with his voice, but right now he couldn’t be happier than to give the man what he wants. 

“I’m so happy this is happening.” His voice is rough, dragging in his throat. He has no story to give, nor does he have the presence of mind to be able to come up with one. Instead, he just voices what he’s feeling. George hums at this, still devoting himself to Dream’s neck. He begins to use more pressure, more tongue. This gets Dream to swear under his breath. “Fuck, that feels good.” He breathes into the air. He gives himself a few seconds to get used to it before continuing. “D-Do you like the sound of my voice this much?” George gives a small moan as a response, the vibrations moving against his neck. Dream moves the hand that he forgot was still under George’s shirt to start mindlessly caressing the skin there. George makes another noise at this, then slots a knee in between Dream's legs. A jolt of lightning goes through him. He makes the most embarrassing sound he's ever made, which George hums at. He mindlessly grips at the couch, trying and failing to stay grounded. A few seconds go by before Dream realizes that he was asked to do something. “I should keep talking then, huh?” Dream swallows thickly, his voice already failing. His mind has gone blank. All he can think of is George’s lips working against his neck, George's knee in between his legs. _George._ George begins to suck, probably aiming to leave a hickey. Dream welcomes the idea, almost more excited to see the mark on him than the feeling of getting it. He looks out the large window there, watching the lights blink innocently out in the world. The rest of the world has no idea of what’s happening in this room. A frown reaches Dream’s face. 

Before he can’t think straight anymore, Dream softly pushes George a few inches away, a soft popping sound happens from George letting go of Dream’s neck. Dream mourns the loss, but something more pressing is at the forefront of his mind. Dream looks up to see George with a small pout on his face, as well as staring at Dream’s lips. Dream gives himself a few seconds to calm himself down, feeling like he’s high on some kind of drug. 

“A-Are we going to talk about this?” It’s barely a whisper, Dream is wrecked beyond repair at the moment. His heart is pumping out pure adrenaline, but something is stopping him from continuing. Dream wants to know what’s happening in George’s head, where they’re at. What’s going on. Though a large part of himself would like to ignore the reasons and just continue. With George right here, his lips swollen and pink, Dream would do almost anything to continue. George lifts his eyes to Dream’s, some kind of emotion flowing through them. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s distant, emotionless even though Dream can physically see George’s eyes filled with emotion. George begins to frown, and the urge to smooth out the lines in his forehead reappears. This time, Dream doesn’t resist the urge. With a gentle but firm touch, he runs his thumb over those lines. George freezes at this, and looks to Dream with shock. Dream freezes, not quite sure what’s happening between them. Then, almost as abruptly as this started, George gets himself off of Dream awkwardly, they were tangled up there for a bit. He stands up and walks away a few feet. Dream is left leaning against the couch, feeling completely empty without George touching him. Dream manages to get himself standing with the support of the couch. The heat within him fizzling out within him. 

“George?” He’s standing away from him, facing one of the twin shelves. His shoulders shudder, and a dark twist goes through Dream’s body. Whatever heat was there has now been completely washed out. He walks towards him and puts a hand on his shoulder. George slightly jumps at this. 

“Clay, I think you should head back to your place.” George’s words sound wet, drenched with emotion. Dream’s frown grows, the twist in his chest growing. He swallows everything he wanted from tonight. He let George take the lead, he’s not that much of an asshole that he won’t leave. But-

“I-I can do that, if you want.” Dream swallows. “But, I need you to tell me-”

“I can’t.” George's voice cracks, and he walks away from Dream’s hand, never turning to face Dream. Anger finds its way into his system. He breathes in through his nose, trying to will it to go away. That’s not what he needs right now. 

“George. I’ll go. But please tell me why-”

“I said I can’t.” George snaps back. Fuel to a different kind of flame now. Dream breathes in once more, trying to calm himself, trying to stop himself from saying anything he’ll regret. He got so far, he’s risked so much. He can’t lose now. Dream stands there, waiting for something. A sign, for George to look at him, for an explanation to what the fuck is going on in his head. Dream reminds himself of their phone call yesterday, almost overshadowed by the phone call that happened today. This didn’t come out of nowhere, George didn’t talk about it then. But Dream thought that in person they could. That they could figure it out. And it seems that George likes him back, they just made out. So why can't George explain this? After a second, George speaks up again. “Dream. Go.” Venom pours into his veins, leaving a sharp aching pain in his limbs. His patience snaps. His anger, pain, and disappointment leak into his soul. 

“What? You just wanted to fuck me without talking about? What the fuck, George?” There’s no response. Dream feels the venom pool in his chest. He walks over to grab his jacket and mask then hastily making his way to the door. “What the fuck, George.” He repeats. “I’m trying over here, can’t you do the same?” He grabs the door knob, waiting for something. Anything. He looks back to see George in the same position, turned away from him, his head pointed towards the floor. His heart yearns to help, yearns to have George let him help him, yet there’s nothing. With the final jab of pain, Dream opens the door and walks out. 

He walks to the elevator, presses the down button. Waits in the elevator, his heart hammering for a different reason. His breath comes out short, too distracted to being able to breath correctly. He gets to the first floor, gets to the main doors. Gets outside to the cool winter air. He looks up, up to where George’s window would be. He checks his phone, hoping that George texted him, called him, something. Nothing. Dream stands there, looking up, letting the anger turn into hurt and confusion. After a minute of nothing happening, he walks up to the man he gave his keys to. 

Maybe he didn’t have enough hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> So. If you skipped parts of this chapter, basically what happened is Dream made it to George's hotel, and in the middle of them ~making out~ George kinda gets weird for unknown reasons and asks Dream to leave. 
> 
> Hi. We're nearing the end. I did add one more chapter, which is the last chapter I'm going to add. It just works better for pacing and also breaks up the next chapter, which was going to be really long if I didn't break it into two. Thanks for reading! This chapter took me awhile to write and I've been messing with it for awhile now. But, I think it's ready to be posted! This has been really fun for me so far, and it's a good break from other projects. Thanks for the kudos and everything!!


	10. How It Started

To say the last month of his life has been a roller coaster would be an understatement. 

What is his life right now? When did everything change? Does he want to go back?

Last night, he was willing to risk it all. Screw the ignorance of the past, the knowledge of the present is so much better. He was given everything he wanted on a platter, the perfect night. And now, he’d do anything to get back to where he was a month ago. Back to ignorance, back to where he knew what he was doing. A solid upload schedule, a good healthy relationship with his friends. Being able to look at social media without going into a full panic. Now, he lies on his bedroom floor, the curtains drawn closed. He could lie on his bed, but the stiff, cold board underneath him reminds of how much of an asshole he is. 

He’s been like this for hours. Ever since he got back to his house he collapsed onto his floor. Though it was slightly uncomfortable, the stiffness of the floor grounded him. There was nothing to sink into, no illusion to fall into. Just the cold, hard reality of lying on the wooden floor. The truth. Something he is craving right about now. The bed is for questions and made up scenarios, the floor is where he can linger in honesty. 

During the ride home, he knew it wasn’t a possibility that he would be getting any sleep that night. A shame, really. He’d almost fixed his sleep schedule. The ride home was a blur. If he thought that the ride to the hotel was bad, coming back was… weird. Worse, and weird. It felt like a dream, he was in a daze, replying every moment in his head, trying to find out where it all went wrong. Trying to figure out if what he said _really_ set George off. Walking into his house in a daze, and finding this cozy spot on the ground in a daze. 

It was so good. The best five minutes of Dream’s life, if he was being honest. The swirling desire in George’s eyes, George in his lap. Just George _being_ there. The rush of meeting him, the rush of tangled limbs. The excitement of it all, but somehow still feeling like it was supposed to happen. Them meeting, George just finding out what Dream looks like, and then plunging into deep waters. George’s breath hitching, how he sounded, what noises Dream could pull out of George. The feeling of George touching him, everything. It was all a perfect dream bathed in distant city lights. Everything he only allowed himself to want late at night where no one would judge him, not even himself. It was perfect, too good to be true. Dream could still feel George’s lips on his neck, a ghostly presence. He didn’t check the mirror to see if a mark had appeared yet, but he was sure there would be one by the time he got around to it. If he closed his eyes, he could be transported back to the moment, back on that couch overlooking Miami. Back to George. Instead, he lies on his floor. He wonders where he would be if he hadn’t been asked to leave. Dream isn’t sure how far they would have taken it, especially if they didn’t talk about it first. He doesn’t see a reality where he would have just gone along with it. 

He thought he was doing everything right. Wasn’t it the correct thing to do, to ask where you’re at with someone? Not just, dive in? Then why does it feel like he messed up? He knows he shouldn’t be mad, it’s a dick move to be mad at this. He has to remind himself he’s not mad about stopping. Though he was very into it, that always came second to him. He’s mad that he never got a clear answer. George asks him to stop flirting with him, then flirts with him, then drunkenly says he likes his voice, then moans his name in his ear, then asks him to leave when Dream wants to know… why? Nothing makes sense from George’s perspective, or at least so many puzzle pieces are missing that he doesn’t know enough to see the full picture. And Dream just wanted, needed to know where he’s at. Where this is going. What should he do. And George would rather ignore those questions, which is the most off putting part. That doesn’t sound like George. George is a ‘discuss first then go’ type of person. They would spend hours planning out the tiniest details of videos while Dream was more akin to just go full steam ahead. How did they switch? 

The worst part is Dream couldn’t control his anger. He lashed out, probably making it worse. Definitely making it worse. But, come on. He knows George isn’t here for a hookup, but it felt like it. It felt like he was being tossed out because he questioned George, and that made George feel like shit. Dream knows there’s probably more to it than that, but it felt that way. Why couldn’t George just tell Dream? He was willing to lay it all out on the table, why couldn’t George? 

Dream wonders what George is doing right now. 

He probably shouldn’t be, but he is. 

Is he sleeping? Probably not. Hopefully not. George doesn't deserve sleep right now. 

Dream turns his head and checks his phone. It’s 6 am. He’s been here for about eight hours. On the floor, thinking. He’s not going to be able to walk when he gets up, and not in the fun way. He’s not even thinking about a plan or anything for when he has to talk to George again, just rehashing everything that has already happened. Is there a point in coming up with a plan? They never work out. 

What about the trip? George is here for three more days. He was supposed to pick him up today, start hanging out today. He doubts that’s going to happen anymore. A twist of worry goes through him. Images of tweets pass through his head, knowing how this will look. People will think they faked it again. This will forever damage their friendship forever, this was how they met. Was this whole trip now void? Was he even going to bother to go to Sapnap’s?

Sapnap. 

Dream bolts up, grabbing his phone. Sapnap. Sapnap knows more about this situation, at least on George’s side, than Dream ever did. George probably told him something that he isn’t willing to tell Dream. Perhaps it’s an asshole thing to do to ask Sapnap, but he needs to. Dream is lost in his own thoughts, and without George giving him anything, he’ll be lost forever. Dream quickly pulls up Sapnap’s contact and calls him. It rings all the way through and goes to voicemail. Dream curses and tries again. He knows that Sapnap keeps his phone on vibrate when he’s sleeping, at least for Dream’s contact, so he knows there’s a chance that he can wake Sapnap up. The next call rings all the way through. Dream refuses to leave a voicemail. Finally, Sapnap picks up the third time he rings. A very sleepy and grumpy voice greets him. 

“Dude, it’s like five am.” It’s a rumbly whisper. Dream opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Where does he even start? After a second, Sapnap’s gravelly voice comes back in. “Hello?”

“Hey.” He could start there. He figures out, at least, that George didn’t call Sapnap about this subject. Sapnap would have sounded a lot more worried if he had. Dream doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. It means that George didn’t tell Sapnap things that Dream specifically asked for, but it also means that Dream is the one who had to tell Sapnap. Should Dream be telling Sapnap? Is this like, pitting Sapnap in between the two of them? Forcing Sapnap to do something that he doesn’t want to? Dream swallows back his worries. He doesn’t have that long to fix this, he has three days. 

“You better have a great reason to call at five in the goddamn morning.” Dream’s brows furrow, truly not knowing where to start, not really knowing if he _should_ start. He takes a deep breath, wondering if he should ease into it or not. When is he one for easing into anything? With the high of being sleep deprived, he decides to just go for it. Screw morales. 

“George and I almost fucked last night.” There’s radio silence on the other end of the line, then a slight rustling sound. Dream imagines that Sapnap just sat up.

“Repeat that, please.” Dream chuckles, somehow finding the humor through a sewage of worry and frustration. 

“George and I almost fucked last night.” His mouth goes dry, somehow the second time saying it is harder, makes it more real. 

“Are you going to go over the details of how that _almost_ happened?”

“Do you want me to?” There’s another beat of silence over the line, and then Sapnap sighs. 

“Not really, but I think you’re going to have to. One second let me make some coffee.” Dream props himself up in a sitting position against his bed, preparing himself for possibly the worst phone call of his life. Telling one of his best friends that he almost boned his other best friend. Wow. What he would do to go back a month in time. 

“Do you even know how to make coffee?” Dream fidgets with his jeans, trying to get himself ready for retelling what happened. He’s spent eight hours thinking about it on a floor, yet he’s never ready for anything, is he? 

“No, I never made coffee in a pot. But I have some grounds and shit, it shouldn’t be too hard, right?” Dream smiles, wondering if this coffee is going to even be drinkable by the time Sapnap’s done with it. “Fuck, I don’t have any filters. Can I use paper towels?” Before Dream can answer that question, he already hears the distant noise of piecing off paper towels. Dream doesn’t need to wonder anymore, he _knows_ this coffee won’t be drinkable. After a second, Sapnap returns with a more serious voice. “Ok. Coffee’s going. Spill.” 

“How detailed do you want me to get?” Sapnap hums at this. 

“As little of the details as possible, please. Main story, no side quests.” 

“Ok. So.” Dream clears his throat. His frazzled brain trying to piece together a coherent story. “After your stream, George called me. We talked about the trip and joked around, it was a normal call until…” Dream swallows, the memory taking over him. Heated words, trying to get a reaction out of George and succeeding. Knuckles turning white as he gripped his chair. A promise, which turned out to be empty. “Until it wasn’t.” With everything that happened, and lack of sleep, he’s having a hard time actually remembering the order of events, and also reminding himself to keep most of it to himself. He sighs, trying to get a hold of himself. After releasing a shuddering breath, he continues. “So, I decided to drive to his hotel and-”

“What time was this?” Dream thinks back. He never really paid attention to the time. 

“Um, I think I left around seven or eight? I got there a little before nine, I think. I’m not sure I was-”

“I don’t need to know that you were hard and horny. I just wanted to know the time.” Sapnap rushes in. Dream bursts out laughing at that. This whole situation is ridiculous, and probably even more so for Sapnap. Sapnap manages to chuckle at that too, though clearly Dream is laughing harder. _This is so stupid._ “So.” He says between laughs, “you drove there. Got there around nine. Didn’t think to call me?”

“Not really. I thought that I was going to have to talk to you about it-”

“So you called me at five am?!” Sapnap screeches in his ear. He wonders if Sapnap’s walls are thin. 

“Well, it’s six for me. And I’m getting there. I haven’t slept and I needed to talk to you. I waited long enough.” There’s a pause over the line.

“I suppose this doesn’t have a happy ending of you tossing George’s salad, given the word almost. You haven’t slept?” Dream runs a hand over his face, feeling the tension pull around his eyes. 

“No. I haven’t. And, well yeah we didn’t… I didn’t toss his salad.” Dream shakes his head, ignoring the word choice. “Anyway. I got there, got to George’s door and-”

“Oh, shit. This was how George found out what you looked like.” _Thank you for voicing my deepest concerns, Sapnap._

“Yeah. It was.”

“How’d that go? I mean, it must have gone well since, you know.” 

“He didn’t say anything about it, at first. Then, he mentioned that I looked exactly like how he thought I would.” 

“The fuck does that mean?” Dream hums, remembering exactly how it happened. The tense few seconds before he had a lap full of George. 

“Well, I don’t know. But I asked and then he jumped me, so.” 

“Wait, George made the first move? Really? The man got game! Also my coffee is done so let me get a cup and shit.” He hears the clanking of cups and dishes. He brings his knees to his chest, feeling smaller as he tells the story, remembering the heat in the air. Remembering the touches and what it felt like to have everything he wanted. And now he had little chance of getting it back. He reminds himself to be joking about this, that it wasn’t affecting him as much as it actually was. 

“Well, I think I made the first move with the phone call. I offered to drive there, but sure.” Dream lets out a breath. “So, um. We make out. And-”

“Fuck! This coffee is horrible what the fuck!” Dream jolts, at first thinking that he’s yelling at the story, but rather his coffee. Dream should've known that was coming, should have expected this when he used paper towels as goddamn filters. “The grounds are just in there! Why-”

“Probably because the paper towel got wet and tore.”

“Fuck, man.” Dream hears distant gagging sounds, as well as a faucet running. More swearing ensues. He cracks a smile. 

“Well, you’re awake now. Didn’t even need the coffee.” Dream allows himself to laugh at Sapnap’s misery, finding comfort in it. After a second, Sapnap returns. 

“God, that was awful. You probably knew that was going to happen, you little shit.” Dream laughs at that, resting his head on the side of his bed. 

“You seemed pretty set on it. You went so fast I couldn’t talk you out of it.”

“It was like dirt! I think some of the paper towels broke into the coffee!” One last final gag happens. “Anyway, so.” Sapnap clears his throat, getting back into it. “You two play tonsil hockey.” Dream closes his eyes and allows the shiver of cringe to travel through him.

“Could you talk like a normal person? Please? For me?” Sapnap lets out a huff that basically says, _‘no way, I’m having fun.’_ Dream groans. “Ok, fine. We do that on the couch. It’s going well and-”

“Is George a good kisser?” Dream groans at this.

“I thought you said no details! Why do you want to know that?” 

“Don’t worry about my intentions, just answer the question.” Dream shakes his head, not believing that this was how this conversation would go. After a second, Dream allows himself to answer, a thread of guilt worming its way through him. He shouldn’t be thinking about this, he’s not sure if he’s allowed to think about it like this. 

“It was great, ok? Best I’ve ever had. Happy?”

“Very. Now, what happened? Why didn’t you knock some boots? Didn’t bring anything with you?” Next time Dream sees Sapnap, he’s going to kill him. 

“Well- I didn’t bring anything. But-”

“Dream.” Sapnap sounds offended. This is going to be a bit, isn't it? Dream isn’t in the mood for this much joking. The guilt is pooling in his stomach, he can't handle much more joking about this situation. “Nothing? How unprepared are you for slamming the clam? I’m disappointed.”

“Do you have a tab open for just stupid ways to call fucking? Can I just keep going?”

“Fine. But I don’t have a tab open, I just have been around the block.”

“No you haven’t." Sapnap scoffs but Dream ignores him. "And we stopped because I asked if we were going to talk about it, then he got all weird and asked me to leave.” Tension leaves his shoulders, only leaving hallowing guilt. He pulls his knees closer to himself. “I don’t know anything. I have no idea how he feels, I don't know how to fix this.” His voice gets smaller. He hates not knowing what he’s supposed to do. 

“Well, he made out with you. So he doesn’t hate you, at least.” Sapnap's voice is small, he's holding back something. 

“Sapnap, please-”

“Dream, I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why he asked you to leave. I didn’t know why he asked you to stop flirting with him. It doesn’t make sense to me, given what he’s told me about-” Sapnap stops there. Dream perks up, maybe calling Sapnap and hearing all those dumb innuendos will have been worth it. 

“Please, Sapnap. I need to know where I’m at with him. Tell me what you know.” 

“Dream, that would be breaking his trust.” Dream furrows his brows. At least Sapnap hasn’t been telling George everything that Dream has been going through in private, but right now he needs to know. 

“Sapnap, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to talk to George again.” His voice cracks, the severity of the situation fully hitting him. “I left, and George wouldn’t even look at me. He didn’t give me anything. And I don’t want to go into this blind again. I can’t go in blind. I can’t keep asking where I’m at with him and getting nowhere. As of right now, this trip is wasted. I can’t imagine seeing him right now anymore. And I get that you two have trust in each other, but right now I need you to tell me how to fix this. And that means I have to know how George feels. Please.” There’s a tense silence over the line. Dream doesn’t add to it, knowing that there’s not much else to say. This isn’t a simple fling, they both know that there’s more to it than that. After a while, Sapnap sighs. 

“I’m going to regret this when I’m more awake.” A swell of relief goes through him. “I'm not sure this is something _you_ can fix, but I'll tell you what I know. I wasn’t lying when I said that I don’t get why he asked you to back off. He hasn’t told me the reason for that, but I couldn’t ask without him knowing that you told me. I don’t get it, he’s not that open with me. But, as far as I know, the dude is, like, in love with you.” Dream forgets how to breathe. “It’s like he’s messing it up for himself. I don’t get it. Can I just say how horrible it’s been watching you two dance around each other when I knew that you both wanted to tie each other’s knots? God, it sucked.” 

Dream curls into himself even more. He looks to his computer setup towering distantly. George… George always liked him back. It was always there. He was trying not to assume anything, he couldn’t take the heartache if he was hoping for something else. But here it is. It’s not in his head. He can feel each heartbeat become lighter with the knowledge. It’s the euphoria of finally knowing, and knowing that he has a chance. With each heartbeat, new blood enters his stream, reassuring him that he isn’t lost, but every breath he takes is tainted with confusion. 

If George wanted this this whole time, liked him back this whole time, then why would he act this way? He didn’t even tell Sapnap this, because of course he didn't. George had everything he could ever want last night, and threw it away when Dream wanted to talk about it. The haunting feeling of doubt creeps into him, taking away his few moments of bliss. Maybe George hasn't talked to Sapnap in a while and his feelings have changed since then. But then, why would George agree to have Dream come over? Dream takes a few moments for him to try to grasp the fact that George simultaneously wants him while he’s pushing him away. 

“Ok.” He sounds so winded, feels it too. “So. That’s cool. What should I do?” 

“I already regret telling you. But I guess if it gets you two together faster I’m for it. My advice, as it always has been, talk to him. Call him.” Dream scoffs at that. He refused to do that because he was terrified of rejection, and somehow he’s still afraid of that same thing.

“Sapnap, I’ve tried that. He-”

“You tried it very half-assed and then you sprung it on him while making out. My guess is he got overwhelmed. Meeting you and then almost had some afternoon delight with you, and then having to tell you that he liked you? Might have been a bit much for him.” 

“But I don’t feel like I should be the one to call him. He’s the one that freaked out, I want to give him time to chill. He can reach out to me.” 

“That’s noble but I think it’s the wrong move. George is shy and stubborn. He’s not going to call you, he would never. These three days will pass you by and then the damage will be done. I’m not saying just show up there and try to shake an answer out of him. Text him that you two need to talk, nothing more. Don’t go promising to blow the guy-”

“Sapnap, stop.” A cringe runs through his spine. Why didn’t he think that Sapnap wouldn’t be a huge asshole about this? 

“I’m just saying. Make it very clear that you’re only interested in talking to him. But be careful, I know something good could happen, but there are a lot of ways you could mess this up.”

“Thanks for that.” Dream runs a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of what he has to do fully hit him. 

“I’m just being honest, man. You two are my best friends and I don’t want us to stop talking because of this. Don’t lose your temper, be patient with him.” Dream taps his fingers on the floor. He can do this. He has to. He has to fix whatever happened. 

“Ok. I’ll try.”

“There is no try, only do.” Dream groans, while Sapnap cracks up. 

“I hate you. Enjoy your dirt coffee.” He hangs up while various insults are thrown back to him. Dream stands up, feeling his back ache in a way he’s sure isn’t good. Different pressure points on his body scream with pain, but he manages to get to his bed. His eyes feel heavy, a sign that he may actually get some rest. This will throw his sleeping schedule out of the window, but he needs it. His head hits the pillow, bringing his phone to his face to quickly write a draft of what he wants to say to George. _Be careful but be clear._ He types something and then erases it, and thinks for longer. He wants to say so much, but knows he shouldn’t risk overwhelming George. While he’s on their conversation, he sees three gray dots appear on the screen. His heart spikes out of his chest, his hands start to sweat. Dream quickly switches away from the screen, in case George sends something and so it isn’t immediately read. He pauses on his home screen for a few minutes, waiting for something, worry and anticipation swirling within him. After a while, he gathers the strength to check back, seeing no new messages, and the gray dots gone. Did he imagine it? Is he so tired that he’s just seeing things at this point? He releases a quick breath, and quickly types out a short message. He presses send before drifting off into sleep, before he can give it too much thought. 

_“Can we talk soon?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! This chapter isn't as long as the last two but still pretty long. Two more to go! Classes start back up this upcoming week for me, so I don't know if I'll post next week since I will be very busy again. I'll try my best though! Thank you for the kudos and the comments and everything. When I say they really give me motivation to write, they do. Thank you for reading, hopefully I'll see you next week.


	11. The Verdict

Dream sits in his car, looking down at the scarily short messages shining through his phone. 

The drive has become increasingly headache inducing. He’s driven the path to and from this hotel three different times, and each time a new emotion runs through his veins. Heat, confusion, and now resolve. It’s a whiplash of emotions, a whiplash of thoughts. A whiplash of different types of pain. He couldn’t do the valet parking this time, rather he was able to find an empty spot in the street. Human interaction seems to be far beyond what he’s capable of right now, . And now he sits and waits. Waits for the courage, the plan, something to get him out of his car. Something to make him stop staring at his phone. Some kind of push to see George and face him. 

It’s night again. It’s been about a cool 24 hours since he’s last been here. The hotel looms over him, exactly how he left it. Now he isn’t worried about if something is going to physically happen between them. Now he’s worried for a different reason. 

He doesn’t exactly know what that reason is yet. 

He knows that George has some kind of feelings for him. He knows this isn’t unrequited. Technically, there isn’t anything to worry about. So what gives? In a perfect story, this is the end. He’ll go up to that high floor and fix everything. So, why does he doubt that that’s going to happen? Why is he _worried?_

In the back of his head, he hears a small, timid voice saying that he’s worried if he hurt George. If he did something, misunderstood the situation somehow. He glances back to the messages that he had woken up from his nap from. 

_“Can you come over tonight?”_

_“Text me when you leave.”_

Last time, the thought of losing George as a friend had crossed his mind, but he never truly had to think about it like this. Either way, he’s probably losing George as a friend tonight. There’s a good way that could go, and a horribly bad way.

Last time, he hadn’t come up with a plan. He didn’t think about all the ways that that interaction could go. Now, he has time and a clear enough mind to think about how this could go. And he sees two main possibilities: George and him explore what they stumbled into, or they don’t. The latter could go a few ways as well. They could pretend it never happened or call it quits entirely.

Either way, what’s coming is already on its way. There’s no point in stalling this as much as he is. 

Dream closes his eyes, lingering in uncertainty, lingering in the possibilities rather than the reality. He feels the expanse of his lungs before his eyes snap open and he opens the car door, stepping out into the winter air. He shoots off a quick text to both George and Sapnap that he arrived, and then closes his phone. He won’t check it for a while now. 

He strides over to the hotel's glass doors, letting a man hold the door open for him. A part of him finds the hotel gaudy now, even though a day ago he was in awe with the expanse of it. He was high on the experience. Now the high ceilings and all white decor are grating on his eyes. He makes his way to the oversized elevator, pressing the same button he did the night before. 

As he waits for the elevator, he reminds himself of the preparation he did before he left his house. Talking to himself in the mirror, trying to find some article of clothing that would hide the growing hickey on his neck. A very large and shameful part of himself wanted George to see it, wanted George to have to look at it during this. So that if George wanted to pretend none of this ever happened, he'd have to stare a pretty little mark on Dream's neck. Dream settled with the cliche of wearing a scarf. It’s winter. He can just not take it off, feign that he’s cold. 

George is smart enough to read between the lines. 

Dream steps into the elevator, just like last night. The doors close and he feels himself being taken up higher and higher. He wonders if that woman is still in the hotel. Maybe, he figures. People usually spend more than one day at hotels like this. He taps his foot as he watches the numbers climb, until they reach where he needs to go. The doors slowly open, showing him the same hallway. Dream takes the same steps that he did to George’s room, the only difference is that he knows exactly where he’s going. Each step is deliberate, slowly taking him to a known location, but an unknown future. He tried to prepare himself as much as he could, but at the end of the day, he just doesn’t know how this is going to go. He doesn’t understand George’s point of view, and that’s what he’s here to finally do. He reaches the door, and without any hesitation this time, he knocks on it. 

It takes a few seconds for George to open the door, but still a pretty fast response. The door cruises past him, fast enough to give a soft waft of the moving air. And then there’s George, standing there. Same dark hair, same piercing eyes. Everything that's wonderful about George is still right in front of him. Dream allows himself two full seconds to be taken by George’s beauty before he ignores it for the rest of the night. George is standing there, not a hint of a smile or any emotion of his face. After about five seconds of staring at each other, a moment of quiet acknowledgement, George steps aside and lets Dream into the hotel room. 

The room is the same. Same layout, same everything. Dream’s eyes land on the white couch sitting innocently in the middle of the room overlooking the streets. He gulps down whatever emotion bubbles up at the sight of the couch. The scarf around his neck moves against his skin, reminding himself of it's presence. Though he’s starting to heat up inside the hotel, he tries to ignore it. He hears the soft click of the door closing behind him. Dream turns to see George, standing in the orange light of the room. A small line is forming in between George’s eyebrows. Confusion, perhaps it’s nerves, Dream isn’t sure. George is looking off somewhere, lost in thought. Dream clears his throat, which snaps George’s eyes back to him.

“Hey.” George blinks at that before giving a half hearted smile. 

“Hey.” George sounds cautious. Clearly thinking about every move he’s making before he makes it. George nods to himself and takes a deep breath, preparing for something. Dream takes the hint to be quiet, to let George take as much time as he needs. After a few seconds, George’s voice drifts through the air. “So. I have a lot to say.” George slowly rolls out. Dream nods. 

“Me too.” George shuffles his feet, still staying by the door, not making a move to come anywhere closer to Dream. Dream tries not to let that hurt him. George sighs, looking down at the floor. 

“Can-can I go first? Just let me talk for a few minutes, okay?” Dream nods at that, trying to mentally prepare himself for what’s about to come. He leans up against one of the shelving units there. George looks at him once more before starting again. “I really like you. I know that I must have confused you last night.” George pauses here to quickly glance past Dream at the couch before averting his eyes once more. “But I do. I have for a while.” A rush of wind blows through Dream, even though it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before. Just hearing it from the source is even better. Though he knew Sapnap wouldn’t lie about something like this, it’s still great hearing George say it. Though with the tone of voice that George is using, Dream feels something deep inside him ache. “And last night- I’m sorry. I should have-” George stops here, looking back at the ground. He hasn’t made eye contact this whole time. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I should have talked to you. I just-” George sighs, finally looking at Dream. Distantly, he wonders what kind of facial expression he’s making. “This is a lot for me.” There’s a finality to it, so Dream senses he should say something back. He clears his throat, finding it uncomfortably dry. 

“I, um, figured that’s what happened. And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said what I-”

“No, it’s fine. That’s what it looked like. It looked like a hookup. I get it.” George cuts in. Dream nods. Though he fears that George is saving face right now, he’s not going to push. He knows he’ll have to give a real apology to the venomous words he spilt the night before. Dream clears his throat again, seeming unable to get the frog out of it. 

“Well. Um, I like you too. I think that’s obvious. And-”

“Dream. Stop.” George cuts in once more, sounding slightly breathless. Dream glances up to see George looking sharply at Dream, though relief is slowly moving across his face. Dream distantly feels the wooden shelves press uncomfortably against his back. “Don’t you get how serious this is?” Dream feels his brows cross. 

“I mean, yeah. But, we’re talking. And we both like each other. And we both understand what went wrong last night. And-”

“God, you’re an idiot.” George shakes his head, finally walking into his own hotel room. He leans up against the shelf on the opposite side of the room from Dream. “I think you forget you’re famous sometimes. This could ruin everything. Everything, Dream. What if this goes wrong? What then? Do we tell anyone? I don’t know about you, but this has ruined my motivation to film for weeks. There is so much at stake, and I’m just talking about our online lives. What about our friendship? What about Sapnap? Have you considered everything that could go wrong? We shouldn’t repeat last night, because then-” George stops, looking off towards the couch. Dream glances there too. Dream feels something sour bubble inside him. To be honest, George is right. He never once considered what could happen in their public lives if something went wrong. And taking into consideration that he hasn’t even been able to go on social media in the last few weeks... It’s a real concern. But, the reason why Dream never really thought about it is because he never really cared. Maybe that’s reckless, but that’s who he is. Dream fiddles with his scarf, remembering all the emotions of the past month, what George has been able to pull out of him. He takes a moment to compose himself before tentatively starting. 

“I think we need to define what _this_ is. If you’re worried about our reputations or possibly screwing our lives up, that’s valid. But, for right now, forget about it. What do you want this to be, if we weren’t ‘famous’ and we had nothing on the line. What would you want?” There’s silence. Dream looks at George’s profile as he waits for the response. The orange lighting hiding how pale he actually is. After a moment, George sighs and shakes his head. 

“I’m not much of a hookup kind of guy.” Dream can’t help the small smile on his face. He’s winning. The sour feeling in his soul starts to fade. 

“Me neither.” Seems like George can’t help but smile at that too. 

“That’s great and all, but-”

“No, we’re not done.” George turns to look at Dream with an eyebrow raised, but he looks amused. “So, if we weren’t famous, would you like to go on a few dates with me and possibly be my boyfriend?” George chuckles at that. Dream holds eye contact for as long as he can, feeling the question fully in his bones. 

“Yeah, I would do that. But-”

“Nope.” George shakes his head again and looks off to the side. “So, we’ve established that, in a world where we aren’t Minecraft Youtubers, we would try and date each other.” Dream smiles at George, who is pretending to be too good to take this part seriously. 

“Yes, I suppose. But that’s not the world we live in.” 

“It’s not, you’re right. Now the question is, is it still worth trying to date each other even when we could screw up so much?” George’s smile turns bittersweet, and something violent twists inside of Dream. If this is something that really made George so worried, maybe they can’t do this. Dream bites his lip, feeling helpless. Feeling like he’s on the edge of a cliff. Is this how it will end? 

“I-I don’t know.” George’s smile disappears, and Dream teeters on that cliff. “At first, I didn’t think about that question, I thought I didn’t have a chance with you. That’s, um, that’s why I asked you to stop joke-flirting with me, by the way. It-it kind of hurt when you did.” Oh. That.. would explain it. Dream remembers the long bits that he would do with George, now months in the past. Flirting and complimenting him. At that time, Dream didn’t know what he was hiding from, didn't know that it wasn't joking. And, he didn't know that George wasn't either. “But then, um, Sapnap told me I had a chance after I got drunk and-”

“Wait, Sapnap told you what?” George laughs.

“Don’t kill him, but a few weeks ago he said that there is a chance that you liked me back.” Dream’s brain comes to a halt. Sapnap was telling George that, while Dream couldn’t manage to get a straight answer out of the guy? What an asshole. Did he like to see Dream suffer? Sapnap is getting one hell of a phone call later. George’s voice bubbles up through his thoughts. “I can basically hear what you’re thinking, Dream.” Dream looks over to George, who looks amused as hell. 

“You have no idea what that bitch put me through.” He says it in the most dry voice ever, which George snickers at. Dream considers driving to Texas just to punch Sapnap in the face. Seriously? What the hell? George looks at Dream with a soft smile until clearing his throat. 

“Anyway.” George’s tone switches abruptly, from light hearted to bittersweet. “After he told me that, I realized what that could mean, for like, everything. Our friendship, our jobs. And I think I’ve made myself sick worrying about it. I don’t know if this will have a happy ending.” Dream sighs. 

“I’m not sure either, nothing in life is guaranteed to have a happy ending. But we both want it. ” George scoffs at that. 

“It’s not that simple, you know that.”

“Why not?” George looks over to Dream, still leaning as far as he possibly could away from him. It’s almost like George is avoiding looking at Dream entirely. “George, this could be simple if we let it. We don’t make a big deal of it online, but we also don’t hide it. Let the fans think what they want, 50% of them already think we’re fucking. We give it some time, and if it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t. But I’m not sure if I could go on and pretend none of this happened.” George looks at Dream with a growing level of shock. Though Dream doesn’t want to convince George to give this a chance, he needs to show him that there is a way to do this while avoiding George’s worries. After a couple seconds of the suggestion hanging in the yeah, George tiptoes around it. 

“I wasn’t going to suggest we pretend this never happened.” George mumbles. A smile creeps over Dream. 

“You’re not arguing my idea. Usually you argue them if you want to say no.” George laughs at this, the noise cutting through the stale air. 

“You know I want this.” George hums, looking back at the couch. The weight of what’s in the air finally affecting George. “God, why is it when you say something, it all makes sense?” Dream smirks. The dense air is starting to become breathable. 

“Probably because I’m incredibly smart.” George rolls his eyes, while Dream pretends to be hurt at the small action. They share a soft chuckle, then a silence envelops them. Dream is waiting on George to reject the idea, to find some fault in the plan. Or, perhaps, build on it. Maybe this is how this will end. A compromise, something doable. Dream could live with that, happily live with that. After a while, George slowly rolls himself away from the shelf, walking over to Dream. He stops besides Dream. He leans up against the shelf, their shoulders almost touching. 

“I like that plan.” It’s in a small voice. Dream hums, agreeing with him. George sighs, then looks at Dream. “Aren’t you hot in that jacket?” Dream looks over and down at George, who is staring at his dark blue jacket like it personally offended him. It’s cute, simple. Dream smiles. 

“Well, yeah. But I think I’ll keep it on.” George looks up into Dream’s eyes, confusion and amusement swimming there. 

“At least take off the scarf, you’ll overheat.” Dream wonders if George is that stupid or he’s doing this on purpose. Judging by the amusing smirk growing on his face, he guesses George knows what he’s doing. 

“No, thanks. So, are we going to try something?” George looks back into Dream’s eyes, away from the scarf that’s hiding a purple spot on his neck. They look at each other for a long moment. Dream tries to calm his growing nerves. Either way, at least they talked about it. So then they can talk about it in the future, they've proven they can at least do that. George sighs. 

“I would really like to.” George nudges close to Dream, their shoulders coming into full contact now. It’s warm and simple. Comforting. Something he has been craving. “I think...I think we could try?” Dream tries to hide his happiness. 

“Yeah?” 

“Just, we don’t make it public, like you said. And we take it slow, last night was a lot for me, for more than one reason.” Dream chuckles, mentally agreeing with George. He can still feel the pull of fatigue on his eyes. “And, we need to be able to talk to each other. These last few weeks with barely any contact with you have been hell.” Dream hums in agreement, remembering the shitty feeling of ignoring George, not reaching out out of fear. Dream leans his head on George’s head, feeling the weight of the decision hit him. 

“You’re only here for two more days. Then what?” George groans. 

“Don’t remind me. When you left last night I basically tore myself a new one for asking you to leave for that very reason.” George shuffles a little under him. “Well, I go visit Sapnap, then I go back to the UK. Then, maybe we see what online dating is like. I can always come back here, you could come visit me.” Dream hums. He just had to go for someone that lived across the ocean. Dream sighs, and lifts his head from where it was nestled against George’s. He takes a few steps out and then turns to face George. 

“Well. We have two more days.” Dream takes a step closer to George, a smirk growing on his face. “I have a few ideas for what we could do in those two days.” One more step, now they’re about six inches away from each other. “Perhaps a first date?” George snorts at that, then shakes his head and looks to the side. Dream puts his hand on the board next to George's head, almost boxing him in. Dream can't help the smirk growing on his face, especially when he sees the growing blush on his face. 

“You’re so cheesy. What, no pickup lines?” Dream raises his eyebrow and takes a deep inhale. George laughs. “No! No, I don’t want to hear them. What did you have in mind, for the date?” Dream grins, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. He waits a moment, for dramatic effect. Them in the most sultry voice he can muster, he gives his grand idea. 

“I take you to the best pizza place in town, and then we go to my place and play Minecraft.” George laughs, which is nice to see up close. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his face moves. The way he puts his whole body into the action. Dream can feel the soft smile growing on his face, but doesn’t care enough to try to hide it. He doesn’t need to hide it. 

“That sounds perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! I am so sorry this is more than a week late. I've been really busy and this chapter was really hard for me to write. I had a hard time wording things and I didn't know how I wanted to get to the conclusion. But here it is! This got pretty corny, sorry about that. When I was drafting this story, I almost made it have a sad ending, but I'm weak. I like a happy ending. I will try to have the last chapter up next week but we'll see. Thanks so much for reading and being patient!!


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